Broken Robin
by Defender of the Dogma
Summary: 2 universes. 2 DCs. One is the one we know. In another, a young Dick Grayson is constantly abused by his Bruce Wayne. When his brothers from the mainstream DC universe find the child, what will they do? Rated for abuse, no slash. Filled with angst, bonding, pain, and fluff. I promise it is better than the summary. No slash, cursing, or inappropriateness.
1. Prologue (1)

**Prologue**

 **Disclaimer: I own what rocks dream about. This goes for all chapters.**

 **I will also be posting notes at the beginnings of chapters that include explicit abuse. There will be summaries of those chapters:** _ **you do not have to read them if you don't want too.**_ **If I miss a chapter that you feel includes possibly triggering content, please tell me and I will post a note at the beginning of that chapter. Thank you for your help.**

 **Sometimes abuse will be in flashbacks, which will be separated from the rest of the story by ~~~~~~~~~ lines. There will still be summaries of the flashbacks and chapters, and warnings at the beginnings of the chapters, however you can read around the flashbacks and only use the flashback summaries.**

 **There WILL NOT be explicit sexual assault in this story.**

 **Be forewarned; this chapter does feature abuse. If this is traumatic for you, you don't need to read this chapter: the basic gist is that an 8 year old Dick lives with an abusive Bruce Wayne, and Dick doesn't realize what's happening is wrong.**

"Dick, get over here!"

Dick, who had been standing unobtrusively behind his adopted father, Bruce Wayne, moved forward silently. His large blue eyes widened at the realization that he had done something wrong. Doing wrong things was bad, especially when they were wrong for Daddy.

"This is cooked badly."

Dick could see that. To most people it wouldn't look like much, but Dick could see the slight discoloration in the eggs that Daddy had revealed. Since Dick was the only other person in the house besides Daddy, and since Daddy obviously wasn't going to cook, (the very idea was ridiculous!) the task fell to Dick. And Dick hadn't done good enough.

It had been a busy beginning of the day. There were things to clean, and Daddy had wanted a massage, but that was no excuse for doing bad. The 8 year old boy bowed his head and awaited his punishment.

"Can you see that, Dick?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The fist came out of nowhere, and Dick didn't try to defend himself. He had to be punished for bad things if he was going to learn. His head bounced off the tile floor, and he immediately started crawling to his hands and knees.

A foot slammed into his side.

Dick started crawling to his feet again, moving closer to give Daddy an easier hit. This time his head struck the table hard. Lights flashed in his vision, and he barely felt himself hit the ground. Unsure of which way was up, he nevertheless attempted to struggle to his feet, managing to find his balance.

He was sure a small flow of blood was running down his face. He tilted his head back to ensure it didn't stain the carpet. Staining the carpet was bad too.

"Are you going to be bad again?"

"No, Daddy."

"Clean yourself up before you stain the carpet."

Dick hurried to do as he as told. Daddy might need something while he was gone, and he wanted to give Daddy everything.


	2. Chapter 2

"Replacement, if you don't get over here now, I am blowing your brains out to the other side of the universe!"

"Jason, you're being dramatic. It was just a gun…"

"It was my baby, Replacement. My baby. You killed her."

"It was an accident."

"It was homicide."

"You are both being idiots," Damian informed them, entering the room. "Now hurry up, I am needed at the Watchtower."

"Leave without my baby." Jason grumbled, meandering toward the door.

"Jason for goodness sake..."

"Nothing you say can make it better. Nothing."

Red Robin rolled his eyes at his overly dramatic brother, and followed Robin from the room.

"You're a bigger villain than Tachyon, Replacement."

"Jason, Tachyon is a cosmic maniac trying to destroy the Earth in an interuniversal scheme for global supremicy."

"Yeah, and?"

"You're impossible. Let's just get through this guy's final hurrah. Nightwing's already waiting for us with Batman, and Tachyon is almost done for. I want to get back to the Tower and work on a case with half - and - half coffee and red bull."

Jason grimiced as Tim's face took on a dreamy quality. "You're disgusting."

Tim shrugged as the teleporter took effect. Red Robin's attention was immediately drawn to the viewscreen up front. Jason slunk off, never one to stay in the middle of a crowd of 'heroes'. Damian stalked off to terrorize some poor soul monitoring the situation so he could be 'brought up to date' as soon as possible.

Tim had other methods "Fill me in." He murmured, knowing his Kryptonian friend could hear him.

"Tachyon's major energy cannon's been destroyed." Superboy shuffled over to Tim as quietly as he could. "It's sending out energy randomly, and some of it's going interdimensional." Superboy did not look pleased. "No casualties yet, but there's been some serious property damage. We need to shut this guy down."

"There's another problem too, Red Rob." Impulse informed him, zipping over and shifting from foot to foot, eyes dashing everywhere as the hyperactive speedster gushed information. "We're- kindof-worried-that-maybe-the-energy-could-like-change-and-like-turn-into-a-different-kind-of-energy,-and-who-knows-what-that-would-do,-right? It-could,-like,-make-people-monsters,-or-teleport-them,-or-maybe-be-giving-superpowers,-mabey-make-another-speedster,-huh? Think-that-might-work?-Course-they-might-die,-but-who-knows…"

Red Robin tuned Impulse (and his consequent headache) out, and watched the monitors as beams of destructive energy smashed into random, unsuspecting universes, watched as the flames leapt from around the inferno.

It was only a matter of time before someone was killed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

"Energy spike!" Supergirl's fingers flew over the dashboard. "The energy type is changing. I don't know what it is now, but it isn't following any pattern or direction! I can't track it!"

Flash zipped over to try to help: as a scientist and one of the few people who could visually track the energy he had been proving invaluable. "It's going crazy before calming down. We just don't know what will happen, it could do anything…"

Red Hood walked over to Red Robin, unhappy with this turn of events. "They don't need us here, Red. What are we doing?"

"Safety precaution, Red. Besides, they'll need us later, after this has directly passed."

"You mean they will need me. You simpletons are obviously meant to be my assistants." Robin informed them under his breath.

"Short stuff…" Red Hood began, huffing at the perpetual arrogance the fifth Robin seemed to constantly radiate, "the day…"

One of Tachyon's energy bolts screamed into the three boy's bodies, before the trio disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Daddy wasn't always angry with Dick. Sometimes Dick managed to do something very right, and Daddy gave him a reward.

"Come here, Dick."

Daddy didn't sound angry. He sounded happy. Dick smiled. He like it when Daddy was happy. Silently he moved in front of Daddy. Daddy hadn't been this happy with Dick for about a year.

Daddy gave a small smile, and carded a hand into Dick's hair. Dick shivered in happiness, having Daddy touch him in niceness was the best thing to ever be a thing. Dick loved Daddy more than anything else in all the world. And then it got even better!

Daddy gently reached out, and pulled Dick down into his lap. His lap! Gently his arms wrapped around Dick's small body and squeezed gently, hugging the adoring child in his arms. Dick beamed brightly and melted into Daddy's arms. He had to make this as good for Daddy as possible to get as long a hug as he could. This was perfect.

When it was over, Dick smiled and retreated into his normal place behind Daddy. But Daddy had to leave now, to go outside, and Dick never went outside.

When Daddy left, Dick slipped upstairs to find the things that hurt. He had gotten a touch and a hug from Daddy. Now he had to hurt himself to make up for it, Daddy said so. this way he didn't forget his place, and do bad things that made Daddy sad. Smiling, Dick fingered the needle in his hand before placing it against his skin. It was worth it, getting hugged by Daddy.

When he was done Dick got things ready for when Daddy came back. He stayed out of the way of the cleaning people. Daddy said Dick was a big secret, and if people ever knew about him, bad men would take Dick away from Daddy. Dick was never seen by the cleaning people. He loved Daddy.

When he was done getting ready for Daddy, and after the cleaning people had left, Dick curled up in the cupboards by the front door, waiting for Daddy. Then a strange energy hit him, and everything disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 2**

Red Hood had shifted to a defensive position before his vision had fully adapted to his new surroundings. His vigilante sixth sense was telling him that the two Robins were both somewhere behind him, and neither were making any noises that would indicate any manner of wounds.

His vision cleared, and Hood suddenly realized something. He was not currently the Red Hood. Right now he was Jason Peter Todd. Leather jacket and all. And… seemed to be in Wayne manor. This made no sense.

He didn't see any attackers… turning around slightly, he saw Tim and Damian, both in civvies, both looking as confused as their older brother.

"What is going on?" Jason demanded, eyes flicking back and forth, checking for hidden cameras; anything to indicate who their captors were. And was it safe to use real names? Their masks were off and they were in Wayne manor, so their identities were probably lost. But if they weren't, was there any reason to give themselves away?

Of course, if they weren't captured, and their civilian selves were the targets, maybe if they used code names that would give away their secret identities. All these thoughts passed in a split second, more in feeling and instinct than in words. Jason knew the same thoughts had flashed through both his brother's minds.

"I don't think we've been captured." Tim said, straightening. "This was Tachyon's energy. We've been teleported. Now we need to see if anyone was taken with us. If the energy picked up anyone else before reconveening with itself."

"Is that possible?" Jason wondered, before scanning the room.

"I think so… something else is weird. I can't touch anything." This was true. Tim's feet hovered about an inch off the ground, like he was walking on an invisible layer of ice. His hand ghosted through the walls. Damian was in the same predicament, but Jason was as solid as could be.

"I think we're in a temporary state of phase." Tim decided. "We must have been to much to get teleported all at once, so Damian and I aren't all here yet."

"This is ridiculous. Are we going to be forced to stay in this state? And why must I be in it with you?" Damian grouched annoyedly.

"I think we'll solidify here later. Judging by the information we have from previous exposure to the energy, I'd say we'll be solid, in this room, in a week. No negative side effects. And as for why Jason is solid, I think that was just random chance."

"Lovely. I'll be here in a mansion haunted by the Replacement and the Demon Spawn. Just what I always wanted."

"Actually, I think we'll be transported to an inbetween state for a while. We won't be in the mansion at all until we solidify in a week."

"This just got way to confusing for me."

* * *

 **And it's probably far too confusing to expect anyone to understand by reading it! If you did, good job! If you did not, here's the basic condensed version.**

 **Jason is in a parallel universe Wayne manor. He is normal and solid.**

 **Tim and Damian are intangible, and will disappear to another dimension for a week before also being normal in the manor. The reasoning behind this is not really important to the story line. Now that that confusingness is sorted out - o**

* * *

"That's not surprising." Tim looked over the room before sighing. "Looks like we're in an alternate universe version of the mansion. But… it doesn't seem to have the defences ours does… and look. Damian gouged this wood with a shuriken he tried to throw at my head. There's no mark here."

"It is unfortunate that I missed, Drake. Any world would be a better place devoid of your presence."

"I'm saying it's possible that over here we're civilians and only civilians. Be careful with what you let slip."

"You be careful Drake, restrictions were made for inferior beings such as you."

"Who won our last spar, again?"

The argument was cut off by both boys looking confused before Tim spoke up again. "I think we're disappearing now. See you right here in a week, Jason."

The boys faded away, and Jason was left in an unfamiliar universe in a manson he tried to avoid in his own world. Yippee. And then he heard a child crying.

Moving to the door and pulling it open in one smooth motion, Jason saw… Dick. But not Dick as they knew him: this Dick Grayson was no more than 8 years old.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 3**

 **For those who may be confused by this, we have 2 separate universes here. One is a mainstream DC universe. Pretty much normal normal, though I don't know everything about the bats and all, so some things may be different. So that universe has the 3 bat boys we see in chapter 2, where Bruce at least tries to be a good dad. Then there's another universe where young Dick is abused by his evil Bruce. 2 universes; they are not the same.**

 **I am so sorry this fanfic is so confusing. It should make a lot more sense here on out. Everything before this was kind of setting the scene.**

 **"** Dick?" Jason questioned, quickly realizing there was no one in the room but a terrified little boy, blue eyes wide with fear. Had the energy somehow transported and deaged their Dick Grayson? It seemed unlikely but possible.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Jason said soothingly, hands outstretched as he moved toward the child. "It's me, Jason. Do you know me?"

Dick looked up, cheeks streaked with tears, and shook his head no, scrambling to his feet. "N-no, I'm sorry. Do you know Daddy?"

"You mean Bruce Wayne?"

"Y-yeah. You know him? Are you here to take me away from him? I love him, I don't want to leave Daddy!"

"No, no, no one's taking you away. Come here kid."

Dick did, walking on trembling legs to where Jason stood. "Is everything okay, sir?"

Jason stared down at this child, and wondered what was going on. He hadn't known Dick as a child, even if he had seen one of the Golden Boy's shows. Even so, he was pretty sure Dick would've responded much better to dangerous situations than this.

Jason remembered what Tim had said about teleportation. This Dick must be from another universe too. He might not be vigilante material, and like any normal boy would be terrified by being teleported anywhere.

"Everything's gonna be fine. My name's Jason. You need to call me that, or I'll feel old."

This was odd, talking to a little version of Dick. However, since dying, Jason had always had a soft spot for kids, even looking out for them in his crime lord days. It made caring for little Grayson easier.

"Yes, Jason."

Okay, now Jason was more confused. Dick, if he was anything like the Dick he knew, should be going in for a hug. If he was like any little kid ever (who wasn't the Demon Brat) he should be going in for a hug. Not standing there weirdly, like he was waiting for orders.

"Come here." Jason picked Dick up and set the boy on his knee, wrapping his arms around the small frame. He proceeded to explain, in terms a kid could understand, what had happened. Excluding the fact that he was a vigilante, that there were other people coming, and that Jason was not actually qualified to care for children.

Dick stared up at him with wide blue eyes, that were filled with terrified innocence and navette. "S-so… Daddy's not here."

"Yeah."

"And… the world is different?"

"Something like that."

"Oh. Okay."

Kid was probably in shock or something. "Hey, you know something really cool, kid?"

"What, Jason?"

"In my world, that I'm from. You're older, a grown up. But when you were a bit littler, I was adopted by your Daddy too. That makes me your brother!"

Dick's eyes went very wide at that. "My brother? I have a big brother?"

"Yep. 'Course I'm supposed to be your little brother, but over here I guess I'm the big bro." If that wasn't a terrifying thought. Jason Todd, poster boy for messed up poster boys, trying to take care of the what was supposed to be purest ray of sunshine to grace the mortal plane. Admittedly, Dick had turned out that way with Bruce (Bruce!) raising him, but Jason was sure he'd be worse at child rearing than even Bruce. Surely, he could do nothing but mess up.

They needed to get Dick back to his own Bruce ASAP. Seriously. Jason wasn't good at this.

"I have a big brother. Wow. That's awesome. That's amazing." Suddenly Dick was beaming from ear to ear, looking like he wanted to explode with the purest form of joy in existence. Still, something worried Jason, pressed at his consciousness. Dick was not pursuing any form of contact, including a hug. That was… weird to say the least.

"I love you so much already! I'll do whatever you want, and love you, and obey you, and I guess Daddy's not here, so you're in charge! I'll do whatever you want, I promise! I love you so much already, and I don't know how to say it, and you're just super perfect and I love you! Do you want me to do anything? What should I do?"

Well. Hopefully this complacency would last, and Jason wouldn't have an unruly elementary acrobat on his hands. Kid or not, that was a good formula for someone getting shot in the head. Even if he didn't have his guns right now. He'd find a way.

"Do you know anything about computers?"

"Yeah! Daddy needs me to look things up sometimes, but I have to be real careful so people don't find me!"

Weird. Some kind of ninja game, maybe? Spies and Bad Guys? Well, kid imagination games weren't his priority right now. "Well be careful not to break anything. Let's find some computers and do some research on the us's of this world. We can't have two Dick Grayson's running around, could we?"

Suddenly, Dick grabbed his head and cried out, a whimpering cry that Jason could tell hid a much greater pain. Dick shot his hands away from his head, and tried to look normal, but Jason had been a vigilante for years. He could see the pain in Dick's eyes. He moved forward to help Dick, but the pain seemed to fade then, and Dick's breath increased every so slightly, so slightly most people would have missed it. Jason was not most people.

"What happened, kid, you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry Jason, it won't happen again. Promise."

Something changed in Dick's gaze, something Jason recognized from long years of hiding from his father. Dick was expecting punishment, and he wasn't expecting a time out.

Dick was waiting for Jason to hit him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 4**

 **So, I feel like this is too confusing, if you have any suggestions on how to shorten the confusing stuff, or make it less confusing, please let me know!**

 **ABUSE WARNING. The separated portion of this chapter has Dick make mentions of things Jason can do to him that 'Daddy' did. You don't need to know them exactly, they are just forms of abuse that are very bad and not specifically necessary to the plotline.**

Dick kept his gaze steady as he waited for his punishment. Daddy hated it when Dick complained, just like he should. Dick was _worthless_ , a nobody. Daddy was the nicest person ever to put up with him at all, and if Dick; worthless, worthless, Dick, ever _complained_ … it was unthinkable. Dick deserved everything Daddy gave him and more for complaining.

And letting other people know you were in pain was a form of complaining. Dick didn't know why the head hurting happened. He didn't think about it. Thinking about it made the hurting happen again.

So when Dick had _just met_ his amazing older brother (he had an older brother!) for some reason, just because he wasn't paying enough attention, he had let himself _cry out_ when the hurting started. This was also a stupid thing to do after _just meeting_ his perfect brother! Now Jason would always hate him and never want to do anything with him, because he'd know what a stupid failure Dick was.

And Jason had already been so nice and touched Dick already, and held him, and said nice things. Dick would have to spend a long time punishing himself. But now Dick had gone and ruined everything, and Jason would only hit him now, and never do anything with him again.

It made sense. Dick didn't deserve anything else, and Jason certainently hated him already: anyone would and should. But Jason had pretended _so well_ that Dick was worth something. And to Dick's shame, even though he knew Jason should hate him, and never spend time with someone as worthless as Dick, Dick still wanted Jason to be with him. It was awful. Dick would punish himself for that too, later.

Dick didn't look down. That would be complaining by saying he was scared, and that Daddy was doing something wrong. Another jolt of pain slammed through him, but this time he contained it. Still standing there, he waited for Jason to give him his first beating.

And waited.

"What happened, kid, you okay?"

"..." Well, that was wrong. That wasn't how things were supposed to work. Dick wondered what was going on. Well, maybe the… moving things from one place from another energy… (Jason said it was called teleportation?) had made Jason forget Dick's place. That was okay. Jason was so awesome that he _obviously_ had better things to think about than anything involving Dick. Okay. Dick would just remind him.

"I think you forgot because of the teleport energy." Dick said, knowing Jason might remember everything, and hit him for even suggesting that Jason didn't always know everything. That would be okay. If Jason hit him, then everything was right again, and Dick deserved to be hit for misreading the situation.

"But you're supposed to hit me when I do wrong things. So I learn. Just like with Daddy!"

Jason's eyes widened, and Dick wondered if Jason had forgotten something important, that he'd just remembered now. Nothing Dick had said was that interesting. To make sure, Dick reviewed his words. Jason should hit him… hitting was for after wrong things… it helped Dick learn… Daddy did it. Nope, nothing interesting.

"Is something wrong, Jason?"

"Your… daddy. Bruce Wayne. He hits you? And not in training?"

"It trains me to act better."

"But not… have you ever heard of Batman?"

Dick was lost. He'd heard of both bats and men, of course, but Batman? What was that?

"No. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Do… you know any vigilantes?"

"I don't know what a vigilante is. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. So…" Jason's eyes searched his face, wide with worry. Dick had made his brother worried! That was very very bad. Dick was a horrible person. He had to make this better.

"It's okay, Jason. I promise it's alright, don't be sad. I'm very worthless anyway, did you know that? I'm not worth anything, I promise. Do you want to hit me? Hitting me makes Daddy feel better, I want you to feel better."

ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -

Jason didn't look like he felt better. He looked like he felt worse. Why couldn't Dick say anything right? He scanned the room quickly, then pulled Jason over to a table with ornamental knives mounted on the wall. Taking one down he gave it to Jason and pulled back his sleeve. Scars shone pale in the artificial light.

"Go ahead, hurt me. You can stab me first, so you get a big thing done; then you can cut me up."

ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -ABUSE SECTION -

Dick was good at reading people, from trying to know what Daddy wanted. Jason looked like he was going to be sick.

"I… no, kid. No. Just… no." Jason set down the knife like it was going to bite him, and moved toward Dick slowly. Dick was just making things worse and worse. "I'm not going to hurt you, Dick. I promise."

Dick stared at him in blank comprehension. Jason may as well have promised not to go to the store, or watch television. Why would Jason make a strange promise like that? And what did it mean? Dick got punished for doing bad things, that wasn't going to change. And Dick wasn't being hurt by anyone!

Daddy gave him owies, he guessed, but those were good owies, so Jason couldn't be talking about that. Maybe Jason hit his head, or got dizzy from the teleport energy. That must be it. The stuff he was saying just wasn't making any sense!

"Jason, I think you hit your head. It's okay, I know medicine and stuff. I can take care of you. We can do other stuff later, it's alright. I'll find our other selves and you can lie down, okay? It'll be okay."

"I'm fine, kiddo. Just peachy. And… yeah we need to find… the other uses. We need to do that now… just in case."

Jason replaced the knife on the wall, and Dick could tell he was keeping his hands from shaking. "And then… we're going to talk. About things. That'll be good, right? And then we'll do what you do for fun."

Jason still wasn't making sense. What Dick did that was fun was serve Daddy. What was really fun was when Daddy was very happy. So Jason saying that they'd do what Dick did for fun didn't make much sense. They'd just do what Jason did for fun, and if Jason liked it, Dick would be happy.

Dick was pretty sure Jason had hit his head, even if Jason didn't seem to think so. But Daddy had instructions for things like this. Jason didn't look like he was in danger from hitting his head, so Dick was supposed to assume Jason knew better than him, like normal. Well, the instructions were supposed to apply to Daddy, and when to disobey Daddy when Daddy was hurt and bleeding from the head or something. But Dick figured they could apply to Jason too.

"Yes, Jason."

Jason turned around and started through the other-manor, in search of a computer. Dick followed behind silently, just like he had for Daddy for as long as he could remember.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 5**

Jason slid into the office, and tapped at the keys. Hopefully there was a Bruce in this world with an identical login and password to his own. If it was different, though, it wasn't like Jason wasn't a hacker or anything.

The computer yielded its data. There was a Bruce Wayne here, and he did have five adopted kids. No mention of the Batman, or any superheroes whatsoever. However, the Wayne's did seem to be in the habit of taking long vacations, where they did not contact the outside world. But from what Jason had dug up, these were just ordinary vacations, no crime fighting involved.

Right now the Waynes were all on some family island or another. Except that Jason was pretty sure that they were actually somewhere else in the multiverse. Probably not back in Jason's world, but somewhere. Which kind of made things simpler and more complex at once. On the bright side, though, the manor should be free, and Jason would be free to wander around once the Waynes were supposed to have returned from their vacation. That wasn't for quite a while, but Jason was sure he'd be fine in the meantime.

Well. Except for the little problem with Dick. Oh man. Jason had no idea what to do about that. Jason had seen cases of abuse a _lot_ over the years, had known many victims personally.

But this was one of the worst cases he'd ever seen, he was sure of it. The kid really had absolutely no idea he was being abused, and the readiness with which he handed over the knife… it wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. But Jason didn't know what to do.

And besides, there was the whole: grabbing his head in pain thing. That. That seemed less of an abuse thing and more of a supervillain thing, to be honest. It looked like a preprogrammed response: automatically flooding Dick with pain in response to certain stimuli. It wasn't a hallmark of normal abuse. 'Course ol' Brucie never did do anything halfway…

Jason didn't suspect other Bruce of being a supervillain. That was going too far. But was it possible that he could have somehow got tech that would keep Dickie bird under his thumb? Certainly, especially if he was a billionaire there too.

Of course, the non supervillainess of other Bruce Wayne didn't make Jason want to pop a bullet in his head any less. He'd barely spent any time with the little Dickie bird, and the kid was obviously broken. Broken so badly… it made Jason's blood boil; make him see nothing but red.

Dick had always been special, somehow. Ever since Jason first saw him with the Flying Graysons, he'd practically worshiped the boy. When Jason was Robin, Dick had been the unachievable standard. As a crime lord Dick had been the one Bruce would have killed for. After he realized that wasn't true, and started to - just maybe - open up a bit more, it was Dick who started visiting his territory. And even afterward, Dick had always been there. The very idea that someone, anyone could take that beautiful child and subject him to anything so heinous… especially Bruce…

Jason was going to fix Dick Grayson. He was going to put the shattered pieces together and heal the broken little boy's heart. Just try getting in his way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 6**

"So can you tell me more about your Daddy, Dickie bird?"

"He's the awesomest person ever. I love him, and he takes care of me, and he knows everything, and he's _so amazing_ , and he takes care of me, did you know that? Oh don't be mad, Jason. You're amazing too, but Daddy is _everything_ , and I can't change that. Don't be mad? I love you too; I'll do whatever you want, if Daddy doesn't say different. Don't be too mad…"

"I'm not mad. I… like you alot." The words were rushed, unfamiliar in a mouth more used to death threats and cursing.

"Dick… did your Daddy ever do anything wrong? No matter how little?"

"Nuh uh."

"Did anyone ever try to convince you your Daddy was doing anything wrong?"

"Oh, I don't see other people. Daddy says I'm a big secret. Daddy says if other people see me, they'll try to take me away!" Dick gasped as he thought of something. "Are you going to try to take me away? You wouldn't, would you? Cause you're Daddy's kid too? Please, please, no?"

Jason wasn't sure how to respond. He had every intention of finding a new home for Dick, no matter what. He also had every intention of putting a bullet between 'Daddy's' eye sockets. Maybe after showing the sick, twisted creature exactly what he had done to the precious gift he had abused so badly.

"I'm going to try to get you home, Dick. No matter what." Just maybe 'home' wasn't quite what Dick was thinking off.

"Okay." Dick said, beaming up at Jason with wide innocent eyes. How could anyone look so _innocent_ after going through everything this child had? "Do you want to know anything else?"

Jason shook his head. Best to not push too much and freak the kid out. Also, if he learned to much at once, there was the distinct possibility that he'd get violent, and that would be terrifying for the kid. Besides, he had the feeling he'd be learning more than he wanted anyway.

Dick smiled at Jason's acceptance, then started looking around the room for something. Finally he walked over to the fireplace and rolled up his sleeve. Picking up the poker, he held the redhot material to his arm.

"Stop!" Jason's scream startled Dick, who went completely still, and didn't move. Jason ran over and pulled the poker away before it could make contact. He tried hard to keep his hands from shaking, but wasn't sure he was entirely successful.

"What… are you doing?"

Dick still stood frozen in the same position, but answered Jason's question. "I was punishing myself, Jason."

"For what? And why aren't you moving?"

"You hugged me, so I need to make up for that. So I remember my place and don't think too much of myself. And I'm standing still because you said 'stop'.

'I… you can move now. And why would you punish yourself for being hugged? I thought you liked being hugged."

Dick turned to face Jason now, small face scrunched up in confusion at this strange older brother who didn't understand why Dick needed to hurt.

"Of course I love being hugged, it's amazing! But if I don't punish myself, I might start to think that I _deserve_ being hugged." Dick shuddered at the thought. "I have to remember that I'm not worth anything, or I might start doing bad things that make Daddy sad." The very idea of this seemed to greatly upset the eight year old, and he looked up, upset, at Jason.

"So may I have the poker back, please? Or if you don't want me to use a poker, I can use something else, it's okay."

Jason stared at the kid in horror. "You'll obey whatever I say, right?"

Dick nodded exuberantly. Finally, Jason understood! "Yes! Whatever you say!" Dick was looking forward to this. He wanted to make Jason happy so badly it hurt, and Dick could barely contain his excitement.

Dick had done some thinking about Jason's world. He hoped that back where Jason came from, Daddy didn't hurt _him_ , not Dick's little brother. (Because Jason would be his _little_ brother over there, and that very thought was wonderful.) Hopefully, Daddy only hurt Dick, and would punish Dick, not Jason, if Jason did wrong things. That would be good. Dick didn't think anyone could be as worthless as him, Daddy had said so.

That meant that in the other world, Daddy apparently had Dick, and a son who was worth something. Dick just hoped Daddy didn't hurt Jason. Hurting Dick was alright, because he was so worthless. But Jason was very special, and Dick didn't want anything to hurt him, ever. If Daddy said so, he'd have a good reason, but Dick hoped that Jason would be the son Daddy wanted.

And Dick would serve Jason happily, and do anything for him, as long as Daddy didn't say otherwise. And now he could start! Jason would give him orders!

"I need you to not hurt yourself."

" … "

Okay, so Jason had a little bit to learn. What did he even mean, anyway?

"I'm sorry, Jason, I don't understand."

"When you do bad things, or when you get good things like hugs… no punishing yourself by hurting yourself, okay?"

"But that's how I learn!" Dick cut himself off immediately. "I'm sorry. I understand, Jason." He couldn't believe he'd actually tried to _contradict_ Jason. This was obviously a test. Take away everything Dick was familiar with and see how he responded. Throw him off his game and see if he could react. And Dick had just failed the test miserably. He didn't know what his punishment would be.

For as long as he could remember, little punishments meant smaller pain, and big punishments meant bigger pain. A punishment with no pain wasn't a punishment at all.

Well… there was one thing Daddy did that didn't make owies. That was the worst punishment of all. That was when Daddy would sit in front of him, and very seriously tell Dick exactually what he'd done wrong, and how it hurt Daddy. Then he'd keep saying how it hurt Daddy, and Dick was always crying by this point. Then Daddy would tell Dick how worthless he was. How Dick should be nothing but grateful that Daddy even looked at him, let alone let him live in the beautiful mansion. How he should know everything Daddy did for him meant that Dick should be so grateful to Daddy that he should do everything Daddy wanted.

Then he'd say how Dick was always being an awful little boy anyway, who did far to much _thinking_ , which always lead to being bad.

Was Jason going to always give him those talks for punishment? Dick knew he deserved the worst he could get, but he didn't know if he could take that many punishments.

And he'd just contradicted Jason, just now. Apparently it was time for his first talk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8**

Dick looked at Jason. Jason looked at Dick. Jason was confused. Dick was looking at him weirdly. Like he expected to be punished… but not physically?

"Dick, is something wrong?"

"I was bad. You punish me now."

Jason had no idea what Dick thought was 'bad' exactly. As far as Jason could tell, Dick had done nothing wrong. Thinking back, he settled on the only thing possible.

"Do you mean you're sorry for saying that it could mess with how you learn?"

"Yes, Jason."

Jason knelt beside the 8 year old boy, wishing he could sooth away every misplaced fear sown inside him. But he was the Red Hood. And even the thought that he could be equal to such a task was on par with a fairy tale. "Why would you be sorry for that?"

"Because you know better than me, Jason. I'm too stupid to make decisions myself. I shouldn't challenge you because when I do things my way, it makes you hurt and I make bad things happen. I'm worthless and you're everything. I never deserved for you to take care of me, or even look at me. For me to be independent is saying that I deserve anything, when I am really the most worthless thing in the universe. I…"

Jason cut Dick off there. At this rate he was going to shoot something or start crying, and neither of those would be helpful. This rant… it sounded… scripted.

"Did your Daddy make you memorize that?"

"Yes, Jason."

Alright, now something else was freaking Jason out. Dick kept using Jason's name… like it was a title or something. Jason could feel his mind straying to how people used nicknames and their implications, but shook it off. He didn't have time for that right now. He had basics to cover.

"Okay, Dick? I never want you to say that again. You are a very special and wonderful boy, and very amazing." That sounded stupid, didn't it. It did. It sounded stupid. Jason was horrible at this. He should go die in a hole or something, but he doubted Dick could take care of himself, so that option was out. Still. Was there any way to convey Dick's nonworthlessness by shooting things?

"And I happen to know that you're a very smart little boy, who's very good at lots of things." This was weird. And still stupid. Jason was not used to complementing Dick. Or anyone. Except himself. And Kory. And Roy, sometimes. But not Dick. See, Jason had tried to kill Dickie bird, and Dickie bird had tried to put Jason in jail. Also, Jason had replaced Dick as Robin. Also, they'd never been exactly the closest, although Jason had always kinda idolized Dick for as long as he could remember. And Dick had been nice to him. But complements? Not his thing, not at all.

Maybe he should try quoting movies for nice speeches. Except if Dick recognized the movies that could backfire. Why were compliments so hard? Jason was getting frustrated, and when that happened, he usually went and shot drug dealers, or something. With rubber bullets now. Because his stupid family was all dead set on sissifying him.

"Am I good at making you happy?" Dick looked so lost and confused, searching for anything to hold on too.

But Jason wasn't sure how to respond to that, honestly. If he said no, the kid would be crushed, and probably decide he'd failed at his mission in life. And given all his self destructive tendencies, that could be a very bad thing. On the other hand, if he said yes,

he was establishing himself as the same kind of person as 'Daddy'. No win scenario.

"Well I think you're very good at doing what's right because you want to help people. And you do, you've made very many people happy, in my world. But you also know that you're a special person too, and you do lots of things most people can't."

"I don't understand, Jason."

"Well, most people aren't as nice and caring as you. Lots of people are very mean, and want to do things for themselves, or hurt other people." _Like me_ , Jason mentally added. "But you're very good; you like helping people, and you're very good at doing it. You have all kinds of very special skills that you're very good at!"

Jason kinda hoped Dick didn't ask him to list them. Why couldn't the Demon Spawn be here? He and Dick were practically joined at the utility belt. Usually Jason noticed the super cool things Dick did, then promptly tried to unnotice them, all while attempting (unsuccessfully) to convince himself that Dick was not his hero. At all. Liar.

"Everyone in our family loves you very much, even though we all have emotional issues." Jason immediately kicked himself. What kind of kid wanted to hear that? "You're very special, and the only thing that holds us together."

Dick looked at him as if all that was good had solidified in front of his eyes. "I love you." Dick said, hushed by awe. Jason wasn't sure if his message had gotten across or not.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

Dick understood everything Jason was trying to say. Jason was telling him that he was loved as much as a person who was special. It was very sweet and amazing of Jason to lie like that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

 **Alright, I am _so_ excited to post this chapter! I love it, and I am _so close_ to having this be the first story of mine to break the 10,000 view barrier! Plus, If I get 6 reviews, I could pull my review count to 30: another all time high for me! Actually, this story just passed up my second highest in reviews, Touch Starved, which has 20. All right, back to the story! So exciting!**

Jason was now moving on to 'what Dick did for fun'. Seeing as they were unable to leave the manor (as they were supposed to be on vacation) they were relegated to indoor activities. Of course when you were in a mansion, and had a large enough imagination, there wasn't much of a difference between indoor and outdoor activities. (That was Jason's personal philosophy, anyway. Bruce and Alfred felt differently.)

Unfortunately, Dick didn't seem to quite understand the concept of 'personal fun time'. All he wanted to do was serve Jason! And seriously, if that didn't just suck all the fun out of covertly manipulating your siblings into doing what you wanted. And forget pranks! This kid would just believe that he was being punished for inadequacy or something. He couldn't prank the kid because the kid would always let himself be pranked! It was a stupid situation.

And yes, Jason knew he was deflecting from said situation because he was freaking out.

"Come on, Dick. What do you do when you aren't serving Daddy?"

"I sleep, and wait for him to come back. And I punish myself. And I think of ways to serve Daddy better."

"Well, aside from sleeping, we're not going to do any of those things." Jason tried to think back to what Dick had tried to drag him into in his Robin days. Of course, Dick hadn't tried doing that as much back then, due to all his Bruce problems. So maybe what Dick tried to drag Damian into…

"We are going to go swimming, watch a movie, and eat cookies." That was normal, right? Damian was always complaining about the movies Dick made him watch (and seriously, Dick pulled everyone into those stupid movie nights) and cookies were always good. All the batkids had liked those… and swimming was a normal thing for kids. Jason hadn't been much for it; living on the streets, water had seemed better used for more practical things. But most kids seemed to like it.

"I don't know how to swim. Daddy says if I start getting too independent…"

"Well, that's nice. Daddy's not here, I'm not Daddy, and things are different from now on. So the first thing we need to do is find swimsuits. I'll go get those. You start getting the ingredients out for cooking. I don't know where those are, but they're probably in about the same place as back home. Everything else seems similar enough. Chop chop, we'll meet back here in 10 minutes, you don't need to be done getting things out if this takes too long: we'll finish later. Capeesh?"

"What kind of cookies should I make?"

" _We_ are making chocolate chip cookies. For both of us. Let's go then!" Jason moved confidently forward, making his way to the bedrooms. ' _Capeesh_.' ' _Chop chop_.' Hopefully they'd get rescued by someone from their universe soon enough. Jason quickly grabbed a set of trunks from his room, and another set from Damian's. They'd pry be about Dick's size. But before leaving the room, Jason slid against the wall.

This was the first time he'd really been away from little Dick since he'd met the kid, and everything seemed to be crashing down. He couldn't do this. He was unqualified. He was the epitome of Daddy issues, with both of his dads; the original abuser, and the emotionally repressed 'I refuse to avenge you' dad.

Besides that, he wasn't even a real superhero. He'd done too much killing for that. His issues' issues had issues, and if he had to stay here too long, he'd probably run away, find weapons, and start taking out crooks, whether there were vigilantes in this world or not. He wasn't a good role model. He wasn't a good adult. But he was all Dick had, so he'd better stop whining and start fixing Dick as best he could.

He wasn't ideal, or even third rate. But he would try. No one could say he wouldn't give his very best.

* * *

Jason met up with Dick as he'd said, noting that the smaller boy looked uncomfortable.

"Jason, I'm not sure Daddy would be okay with this."

"Well these are very different circumstances, and Daddy couldn't prepare for this." Well Jason's could. Not little Dick's, though.

Jason tossed the smaller trunks at Dick's chest, then gestured to a nearby bathroom. There were a million of those around the manor (it was a _manor_ ) and they were both soon changed. Now to tackle the who-knows-how-much-of-a-problem of teaching Dick to swim.

Jason even didn't know how to make sure Dick wasn't going to drown or not tell Jason he needed help, or something. Yeah, this was going to be _fun_.

"So, Dickie bird, let's get in." While Jason normally entered a pool in the deep end by making the largest, most annoying cannonball possible, this time he took Dick by the hand, and slowly descended the steps, knowing full well the boy wouldn't seek out comfort, and knowing that meant he needed to provide it unprompted.

"Dick, I need you to know that if you get in any trouble, or if you think you're going to sink, you need to tell me immediately. I need to know you're going to get help when you need it, or I'll get scared for you, okay?" Jason would probably notice if something were happening to Dick, but just in case, he needed to know.

"Yes Jason."

"Now the first thing you need to learn is how to float."

Jason explained the basics of floating, then gripped Dick gently on his back and stomach, holding him floating in the water.

"Ready?"

Dick nodded: Jason had told him that he didn't always need to _talk_ when swimming, 'cause you're mouth could fill with water.

Jason let go, and Dick wobbled some, barely managing to stay atop the water, before losing his ability and sinking into the waves. Jason immediately pulled him up and against his own chest, grinning at Dick's spluttering form.

"Good first try, kiddo, you did better than me."

"Sorry, Jason."

Jason ignored the pang in his chest. "No apologizing while swimming today, okay? Just having fun and learning to swim. No sorries. Want to try again?"

"Yes, Jason." Dick looked a bit less apprehensive this time, as Jason lowered him again, before letting go.

* * *

It took a few hours, but Dick was getting the hang of swimming, and could get around the pool pretty well without help. He'd also seemed to lose pretty much all of the rigidity and strictness he'd entered with, and was now having a fabulous time splashing about.

"I'm coming for you, Dickie, there's no place to hide!" Jason cried, forcing the water aside as he strode through, fingers trailing through the water. Dick giggled, and splashed away, trying to swim fast enough to escape Jason's watery plans. Jason, though impaired by the slowness of walking through water, was able to catch up to his little charge, and pluck him straight out of the pool.

Laughing reservedly, he skimmed the boys body over the surface of the waves. He hadn't enjoyed himself like this in a long time, and he was loving it immensely. Dick was too, and especially enjoyed being caught by the water monster. Jason would pull Dick close and pretend to eat him or something, and he knew Dick considered it a hug.

If anyone back home asked, though, the Red Hood was not giving hugs. The Red Hood was pretending to be a fearsome monster that stalked the waves, and he was very cool, and Dick was probably scared. Because he was a monster and definitely not a nice person. Or a hugger. This is what he would say.

And then a bunch of the morons he was forced to associate with would say things that might almost sound like they didn't believe him. Of course Red Hood knew better, though. He was scary.

"I'm going to eat you and steal you and keep you in my secret dungeon lair." The Water Monster informed his prisoner. There, was that not scary? Cannibalism, kidnapping, and incarceration? "I decree we shall eat cookies in my secret living room layer, where we can then watch movies."

Okay, so he was a reforming monster. Dick was still scared. All that laughter? Hysteria. Obviously.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Merry Christmas, everyone! This is my present from me to you! Have a happy new year!**

Cookies took much longer to make than Jason had anticipated, and after swimming for so long, they were both _hungry_. However, they were able to make no bake chocolate cookies, so those finished faster than if they'd had to use an oven. However, they still had to wait for the things to cool. Impatient, Jason decided to at least start a movie while they waited. He set some options before Dick.

"Have you ever seen a movie before?"

"Sometimes Daddy watches stuff on TV, but I never watch anything."

"Well then this will be even more fun for you. Now, this one is about an ice princess (it's called Frozen), this one is about a deer and his buddies (Bambi), and this one is about a pretty girl and a giant fuzzy monster thing (that's Beauty and the Beast). It's not that scary though." Well, at least Jason _thought_ Dick wouldn't find it scary.

"I want to watch what you want."

"Well what I want to watch is what you want to watch."

"..."

Jason nodded seriously.

"Making me happy makes you happy?" Dick immediately flinched so hard at his own words, that Jason almost worried about him having a seizure. The boy suddenly seemed drawn into his own thoughts, and Jason suddenly knew that even without a knife or poker, Dick was still capable of devising the cruelest punishments for himself. Punishments that tore at his heart and soul in agony until he no longer understood the meaning of a gentle touch.

"Yes, Dick. Making you happy makes me happy." Well, maybe that wasn't how things worked back home (pranking Dick made Jason happy), but it was true here.

"I'm not worth it, Jason."

"That's not true. You're very special, and you're worth the world. Now pick a movie."

Dick looked like he wanted to argue, but compliance was too ingrained in his nature. Even when everything he knew seemed to be turned backwards. He'd figure this out later. "May I have the one with the ice princess, please?"

"Frozen, good choice." Jason popped in the CD, and thought back to what Dick (the older) did on movie night with Damian. Sprawling in the couch, he wrapped an arm around the smaller body and pulled it close. Dick started in overjoyed surprise (he always did when touched, but Jason didn't like to think about that), and snuggled into Jason's warm, solid body.

Dick was soon thoroughly enjoying the movie, and while Jason told himself _he_ was far too old for magic princesses whose problems were solved through song, he could at least admit that he was getting second hand enjoyment through Dick. (And maybe he kind of liked the movie too, but would kill anyone who knew it.)

Dick, for his part, having preplanned reassurances from Jason, bounced happily in his seat, giggling at the adorable child and reindeer, and happily trying to sing along. He'd shot Jason some concerned looks at his own boldness, but Jason had seemed happy.

Dick had sat in rapt attention as Anna was ice struck for the first time, had gasped in horror as Elsa lost control, and hit multiple wrong notes on 'Let it go'. Jason had deemed the entire thing adorable. By the end, Jason thought Dick was sure to be more exhausted than he had been after swimming, on account of the intense emotional reactions he'd had throughout the entire movie.

Sure enough, once the credits started, Dick collapsed boneless on the couch from his previous position of muscle tensed excitement at the beautiful love story playing out before his eyes. Gasping, Dick rolled his eyes upward to stare at Jason.

"That was the best thing of my entire life."

Jason grinned, and hoped that wasn't true. "Well guess what we forgot? The cookies!"

A look of horror took over Dick' face, but Jason stopped him. "It's okay; no sorries. They'll be more cooled down now anyway. Let's go eat some, huh?"

Dick nodded his approval, and the pair moved down the hallway.

"What was your favorite part of the movie, kid?"

Dick thought about it. "I… I liked where Elsa was singing, and making the ice castle. It was really pretty." Dick glanced up at Jason to ensure he'd said the right thing. Jason smiled.

"That was nice, wasn't it? I think my favorite part was where they meet Olaf."

"Oh, that part's best." Dick agreed quickly, shrinking in on himself immediately.

"No, no, Dickie, that's not how favorites work. I have a favorite, and you have a favorite, and it's okay if they're different. I mean, how boring would life be if everyone liked the same things?" Jason almost added that one wouldn't be able to punch bad guys in the face as much, but then realized little Dick didn't know about his nightlife.

"So, my favorite should always be not yours?"

"No, not that either. I mean, it's cool when two people's favorite is the same thing, and they have that in common. So you should just always let your favorite be your favorite, no matter what other people think. Things are better that way."

"I should ignore laws and stuff?" Dick's eyes were wide, and he looked quite disturbed.

"No, no, it doesn't work like that." Jason tried to make sure he didn't sound at all annoyed: Dick wouldn't take it well. "You can have opinions and stuff but…" Jason was saved from having to make philosophical statements by entering the kitchen.

"Aw, here we are, we'll just have to bring it up later." Jason made a mental note to distract Dick later. "You ready for cookies, squirt?"

"Uh, huh. What's a squirt? I don't squirt water, unless I'm rinsing my mouth after brushing my teeth or something."

"It's just a nickname for little kids." Jason ruffled Dick's hair. "Now where are the plates…"

Jason had been talking to himself, but Dick responded anyway. "Third cupboard from the door, second shelf."

"Thanks, Dick." Jason pulled a couple plates from the shelf and handed one to Dick. You can have six, don't spoil your supper." Six was probably too many. Those cookies were about half the size of Dick's fist; surely Dick wouldn't be hungry after that. The eight year old was a scrawny little thing. Jason wasn't used to cookie rationing. When he made cookies (very rare) he ate them all at once.

But he remembered Alfred saying stuff about spoiling supper. But how many cookies amounted to spoiling? And anyway, having all those delicious cookies _right there_ , and _not_ having at least six seemed like a punishment. Why leave them lying around?

Jason was probably not good at being a responsible adult.

"Jason, I'm not going to eat any."

Oh, boy, this again? What _hadn't_ 'Daddy' done to this kid? "Of course you're going to eat them. You helped make 'em after all. Besides, you're the kid here. If anyone doesn't eat them it's me, the adult. I think that's how things work anyway… don't tell anyone if I'm not a very good adult and eat too many."

Jason gave Dick a conspiratorial wink, hoping that the kid would ease up a bit if he felt like he and Jason were a team against something. Dick still looked unconvinced, though.

"You can have them, I'm not worth it."

Jason felt his blood boil. No child should ever turn down cookies because they thought they were _inferior_. "Dick, that isn't true. You are special; you are not worthless. Don't ever tell yourself that you're worthless again. I care about you. Now we are going to eat delicious cookies, and no amount of evil brainwashing can stop us."

Dick looked like he didn't understand at all, but he gathered six of the cookies, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. Jason grabbed his cookies (six; if Dick were anyone else he'd take way more, but Dick could only take that as confirmation of his non-worth-cookieness) and hopped up onto the counter, motioning for Dick to join him.

"Hop on up, kiddo."

Dick did so hesitantly, obviously not allowed to do this back home.

"All right, now I'm gonna need to be takin' care of you till we get you home, right?"

"Right. I'm sorry…"

"Nope! You don't need to be sorry; this isn't your fault. In fact, one of my very wise adult judgments is that you are super special, and you're very good at doing good things. And I don't think you need to say sorry as much as you do. In fact, new rule. No more saying sorry for stuff. Ever. At all." Jason considered this rule to be brilliant. However, the kid looked so confused, and so thrown off.

Jason knew he should expect this: in fact it was probably good. But could he really afford to snatch away everything Dickie bird knew so quickly? What if the kid had a mental breakdown? As much as Jason hated to admit it, he might have to go a bit slower. Maybe this wasn't the best thing to do. Or maybe he should force out everything all at once; not let anything take root.

Jason was no psychologist. He didn't know which was better. But he couldn't take the risk, not with stakes this high. He supposed he could grant some leeway.

"Well, alright. You can say sorry if you break a rule I say. By the way, do you like the cookies?"

Dick looked hopelessly confused at the changes in conversation, but focused on the question. "I like the cookies very much."

"That's good. We should make cookies more often. But for now…" Jason glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. "It's like, 9:00, and that's probably about an hour past your bedtime." Kids had 8:00 bedtimes, right? They did in the movies and books. Maybe Jason would be able to get some research done while Dick slept. Nothing could go wrong while sleeping, right?

"Hey, do you have nightmares?"

"I don't know what nightmares are." Jason heard the barely restrained sorry.

"That's okay. Not knowing things is okay." Except that went against everything Jason had learned from the streets to Batman. "Nightmares are dreams that make you feel scared, or sad."

"Oh. Then I always have those. Daddy gives them to me."

"You have nightmares about your Daddy?"

"Yes, the _other people_ , the ones I'm not allowed to see? They come in and tell me Daddy's a bad man. And then they take me away from him, and put Daddy in _jail_ where bad people go. It's so scary… I hate it. I'm always so scared, and sad… but then I see Daddy in the morning and I'm happy again, because he still has me."

Dick sniffled, at a sudden realization. "But now when I wake up in the morning, after the dream, Daddy won't be there anymore, and I know you didn't take him away, Jason, but I _want Daddy_. I love him."

Jason was always surprised at the new levels at which Bruce could surprise and disappoint him. Apparently it was a trait 'Daddy' shared. Planting the same nightmare in the child's brain every night… obviously offering no comfort for the plagued little boy. It was an effective strategy. Dick would latch onto him after every nightmare, wanting confirmation that he was real.

And if anyone told him how evil Daddy really was… he would immediately associate it with the terror of the nightmares. Jason and Bruce had always had at least a touchy relationship. Jason hated 'Daddy' with a burning passion that would probably reduce the man to dust.

Jason wondered how he could turn this situation around.

"Hey, Dickie, I have an idea. Why don't you sleep with me?"

"Sleep with _you_?" Dick's confused, wondering eyes stared up at Jason, wide and disbelieving.

"Yeah! I'll make the nightmares feel better, and it's like, extra snuggle time. Double bonus." Jason's voice dropped to a whisper, and he moved close to Dick's ear. " _In the business world that's a good thing_."

" _Oh_." Dick whispered back, looking hyper and excited. " _I think that's great, then. Why are we whispering_?"

" _Because whispering is fun_."

Dick giggled, ducking his head to peer up at Jason from behind falling bangs. " _I like whispering too. We have that in common_."

Jason full on grinned, and even even let out a laugh he couldn't contain. " _That's because we're both awesome. But we need to charge our awesomeness by sleeping now. We'll use other me's room. It's mine, anyway_."

A very slight moment of confusion passed through Dick's eyes before it was banished, and Dick pushed all confusion aside.

" _Don't we need to brush our teeth first_?"

" _Yeah, I think I know where Alfred keeps the toothbrushes. Come along, then_." The two totally awesome brothers made their way to the spare toothbrushes, and then to Jason's bedroom (Dick made a detour to borrow Damian's pajamas).

Jason hopped into the bed and pulled the covers back, reaching out to pull Dick into his arms. Thinking back, he remembered being Robin, and having the very occasional sleepover with his older brother. Remembering what Dick would do for him, Jason spooned his body around Dick's smaller one, covering as much of the smaller boy as he could.

Dick smiled brightly, and shivered, unused to such beautiful contact. Jason reached up to stroke the boy's cheekbone, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. Dick's smile grew brighter, even as he let himself succumb to sleep. Jason tried to think of all the ways he could tell Dick he was special and wanted, and as he did he tried as hard as he could to use his calloused fingers to sooth over a little boys face.

At some point during the night, Jason realized that he wasn't getting any research done. Oh well. Who needed research when you could do some solid field work?

Dick gave the most adorable yawn in the history of ever, high pitched and vulnerable. He stretched a bit and tried to snuggle further into Jason's warm body; smile on his face slowly dimming until it was only a satisfied twitch of his lips. He let out a sigh and settled back into Jason's stomach and chest. His eyes gave one final flutter before he lapsed into sleep; soft steady breaths audible in the near silent room.

Jason's eyes softened at the peace and innocence on the child's face. Dick didn't know how he'd been wronged, and he didn't know what should've been done to make things right. He was depending on Jason for all that. He needed Jason to save him from his own demons, and to give him an actual family. He needed Jason for so much…

Jason was used to people depending on him. After all, as Robin he'd been a vigilante, and even as an Outlaw he'd still saved people. But this… this was different. Dick was vulnerable in a way Jason couldn't shoot, punch, or blow up. But… maybe he was vulnerable in exactly the right way to pull out parts of Jason long buried. Maybe the compassion, pushed aside since the Joker and crowbar, the love and caring… maybe it could come back. Maybe Dick would heal him in exactly the right ways to bring back everything Bruce had seen so long ago in the dirty thief who tried to steal his tires. Maybe… maybe it would be alright.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12**

Jason awoke the next morning before Dick did, unused to getting this much sleep. He didn't move though, fearing that he would wake the sleeping child in his arms. 6 more days before the Replacement and Demon Spawn got here. Who knows how long before going home.

Jason wondered how going home would even work. He wondered if they were going to send little Dick to an orphanage. He wondered where he could find guns.

So sue him, he was a vigilante. He couldn't stand not being armed. Too vulnerable. Needing something else to occupy his thoughts, Jason turned to the problem of childcare. He would need to do something with this kid, but they couldn't just swim, watch movies, and eat cookies all day. And then there was the whole 'grabbing his head in pain' thing. Jason decided to tackle that first. What could have set off that amount of pain in the smaller boy?

Jason remembered thinking that it looked like some kind of pre recorded  
response. Since Jason was pretty sure Daddy wasn't a supervillain, it was probably something you could get on the black market, if you were rich enough. Of course, that didn't narrow things down by much.

Jason decided the best bet was that it was a pre recorded responses, triggered by certain phrases. This could keep Dick from dwelling on certain things, unable to think about them for the pain. But what phrases could have set him off? Jason thought back to the conversation, and played it back in his head. He couldn't think of anything.

 _"Well, be careful not to break anything. Let's find some computers and do some research on the us's of this world. We can't have two Dick Grayson's running around, could we?"_

What could it be? 'Don't break anything'? No, that was an important thing for Dick to remember and think about. 'Research'? Probably not… too common a word, with too many applications. 'Dick Grayson'? That was just Dick's name! Jason decided to run all those phrases at Dick later in the day to see what stuck. He hated the idea of using the kid as a guinea pig, but he needed to know what would cause the boy such crippling pain if he was ever going to function as a normal person.

With that settled, what would he and Dick do? Jason had never had experience growing up in a normal home, and he didn't pay _that_ much attention to Older Dick and Damian: normal activities of younger children were lost to him.

Maybe he would look it up on the internet. Google was, without a doubt, the greatest achievement of mankind. Period. Except maybe for bread. And guns. And that sticky glittery stuff that was great for pranks. Google was up there. Well, maybe he'd just wing it. See what struck him. That seemed like a good plan.

* * *

"Good morning, Dickie bird."

"I'm a bird?"

"No, silly, it's just a nickname." Jason replied, bopping Dick lightly on the nose. "I use it to to show how much I care about you." 'Note to self, remember to use L-word', Jason thought to himself: 'that kid isn't exactly going to interpret my deep seated fluffy feelings.'

"Oh. So you like birds?"

"They're pretty important to my family."

"Should I call you Jason-bird?"

"It's not really a nickname if you try to make it, kid. If one day a weird name for me just pops into your head, and it just seems to fit me, that could be a nickname. Hopefully you'll come up with one at some point, but you don't need to do it soon. In fact later's probably better; it's more natural that way."

Dick gave some wide eyed response, but Jason didn't hear it. He suddenly realized that he'd told Dick that the kid could give him a nickname later, as if there was going to be a distant future between them. As if Dick wasn't going to end up with an adopted family as soon as they could find an awesome family that deserved him. It was better not to think about that, for some reason.

Jason hoped whatever Dick had said hadn't been all that important.

"Dickie, I've been thinking. What does Daddy do for you as a reward?" Because any system of control needed some perks, or your minions either revolted or shriveled up and died.

"He gives me hugs, and runs his fingers through my hair, and there were two times where he kissed me!"

Jason instinctively wished for sunglasses at the impossible levels of joy radiating from the broken child. At the same time, his heart shattered. Two kisses? In the kid's life? Even Jason had gotten more than that from his mom when he was on the streets. That was… just impossibly messed up.

Jason Peter Todd did not like physical contact. Jason Peter Todd did not like doing things for other people. Jason Peter Todd was learning to be less selfish.

Jason Peter Todd kissed Dick's cheek.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13**

 **Happy Valentines Day! Also, Happy International Fanworks Day!**

Jason woke early again, earlier than last night, his body hyped with energy no amount of in-house romping would be able to purge. Dick still slumbered peacefully in his arms, twitching occasionally. Jason hadn't been thinking about it last night, but now that he considered it, the boy must still be having nightmares. Jason wished there was a way to chase the nightmares off. It would probably require a psychiatrist. These weren't normal nightmares.

However, with all the energy buzzing inside him, Jason had to at least think. How were they going to escape? What were they going to do when Tim and Damian showed up? If they showed up? Wasn't it more likely that B would find them before that happened? What if he didn't?

Jason's arms tightened around the precious burden in his arms. If B didn't find them; if they couldn't go back, then he would take care of his little brothers. All of them. B would find them though, so it was a moot point. Still. If he had to find a way out from his side.

Jason spent the next few hours mulling over possibilities and probabilities, but all he could come up with was that unless this world had some fantastic resource that was around despite the presence of superheroes, he was probably stuck. He could check, of course, but the probability was that they didn't have anything near that kind of technology.

Jason wouldn't be able to create anything like it either. Maybe if Roy was here… but he wasn't, so it didn't matter. Replacement would be showing up soon, though, so maybe he'd get something done.

Finally, when Dick started to stir, Jason moved from out of bed, stretching out his back with a sound far too reminiscent of rice krispies. He was probably getting old. The end of his career was nigh - might as well accept it and move on. Get the grieving process over with. Nothing else he could do, anyways.

Jason moved over to the bathroom to throw on some clothes, already knowing the basic plan of the day. Which was sad, because Jason didn't really do plans like that, so he'd have to be _really, really_ bored to make one.

When he finally walked out of the bathroom, the bed was made, and Dick was nowhere in sight.

"Birdy? Where are you?" Jason asked, walking into the room, and wondering if Dick was already in the kitchen.

"Here, Jason."

Jason nearly jumped at the unxpected voice, half whirling to see Dick standing beside the bathroom door, looking a bit confused.

"Umm. You need to go?"

"No, I was waiting for you. Did I scare you? I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm fine. Just didn't see you there."

"Daddy says no one wants to see me, so I have rules about where I should stand and stuff. So I don't get underfoot."

"Well there aren't any rules like that here, and I like seeing you. You can stand wherever you want."

"Yes, Jason."

Jason had the sinking feeling that where Dick wanted to stand was out of the way. No kid should ever feel like that.

"Whelp, we've got breakfast to make." Which was getting tedious, actually. Breakfast wasn't even necessary! Did he really have to make the thing _every day_? Honestly, how did people do it?

Jason was tempted to simply let Dick make and eat breakfast, and he'd just sit around or something, and not eat. 'Cause… doing this… every day… Jason decided he shouldn't. Making Dick do all the work was bad, and not eating breakfast would only confuse the child.

Jason was annoyed with this (responsible) turn of events, and felt a bit out of sorts, as he trudged down to the kitchen. It was a hard feeling in his chest, this annoyance, and a bit of a burning behind his eyes. But even deeper than that he thought he felt… satisfied. Somehow. Even though this wasn't at all what he wanted to do!

On impulse, Jason turned a bit and scooped Dick's small frame into his arms. Dick started a little before settling in comfortably, melting himself against Jason's chest. It felt nice somehow, and that was weird, because Jason didn't like contact.

He didn't figure it was because he somehow magically liked the kid enough to want to cuddle all of a sudden. Maybe… of course. Daddy would have trained Dick to react to being held by making things as good for _Daddy_ as possible. Jason ran a distracted hand through Dick's hair, feeling the trembles under his fingers as Dick contained his happiness. Continuing to pet the child, Jason walked into the kitchen. Well. Time to get this show on the road…

Following an uneventful breakfast, Jason decided to teach Dick some basics of self defence. Who knew what the kid might need?

Once they had cleared a bit of a small space out of the living room, Jason settled into a very basic defensive pose. Best to teach some defence before offence.

Dick mirrored him to the best of his ability, and Jason gave him a few tips on how to fix his stance. Jason then demonstrated how to block a basic punch, then going in to punch the kid in exaggerated slow motion.

Dick blocked pretty well, but there seemed to be something weird in his eyes. Maybe if Jason had been feeling more responsible, he would have asked after it, but he was so tired of being responsible. He was so done adulting. So. Done.

Even if he knew he'd do more of it later.

But for now he continued with slow motion attacks, repeating the moves again and again, until he could go a bit faster and faster. Of course, he wasn't stupid. He never went full speed or close, or even full speed for a normal person. Nothing that couldn't be pulled back, and nothing that at all ran the risk of hurting the kid.

And yet the _something_ in Dick's eyes grew brighter, and Jason almost wanted to ask after it, and yet he _didn't_ , because responsible time was _over_ and he just wanted to go back to beating up criminals. At this point, Dick could be _whimpering_ , and Jason may not have stopped.

It was stubborn. It was rash. But Jason had just decided that he was not going to stop, and he was going to train this child, and fix him, and _anyone who didn't like it could just-_

Jason slowly swept his leg under Dick's prompting the boy to jump, before crumpling in pain.

All the anger Jason had felt flew away faster than he'd thought possible at the sight of Dick's small body prostrate on the ground. The adrenaline faded, and Jason was left with a soul crushing guilt that left no room for any excuse.

He was on his knees beside Dick in an instant, pulling the featherlight child into his arms (no child should ever be so light). Running a gentle hand over the boy's forehead, Jason brushed the bangs back from his face.

"Hey, Birdy, can you tell me what happened? Are you alright?"

Dick's eyes were slightly unfocused, and Jason could see the faint sheen of repressed tears. "I'm okay, Jason. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time!"

Jason continued stroking Dick's hair, then acted on instinct and kissed Dick's cheek. Dick gasped, and stared adoringly at Jason. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jason silenced him gently.

"I'm not angry at all, little bird. Not the tiniest bit. This is my fault: I should've made sure you were okay sooner. I'm not mad at you at all. But can you tell me what hurt you?"

Because Jason knows it wasn't a hit from him. He'd never actually made any contact with the boy besides a light tap. But he did have his own sneaking suspicion.

"It's just one of the hurting times." Dick informed him unworridly. "Daddy says I shouldn't be able to defend myself since I don't deserve it and I'll never need to anyway. But you said that Daddy didn't know how things would happen here, so I should start my rules over. So I didn't think I needed to tell you. Was I wrong?"

"Well, I'd like for you to be able to defend yourself, but I do think I need to know when your… hurting times are. Can you tell me?"

"Well… when I do bad stuff. I guess. I don't think about it much. I just obey Daddy! And now you."

"Ah. I see." It occurred to Jason that he actually needed to start really thinking things through at this point. Get a real chance to turn everything over. And, probably, Dick did too. This was all so new to him; so strange. Surely the kid needed a chance to think all this over.

"You know what, Dick? I think we both need to think some'a this stuff over. I know this all seems pretty weird to you. It's weird for me too. You wanna take some alone time to try to figure this out?"

"If you want to, Jason."

"I think so." Jason stood up, hefting the child onto his hip. "Now, when you're done, just head over to the movie room, and help me pick out something to watch, okay?"

Dick nodded. The movie room was the sorta living room where they'd watched Frozen. "Okay."

Dick trudged into the other room, eyes on the ground as his head spun. Everything… had been so overwhelming. So strange. From Jason's strange rules to a _new universe_ … The easiest thing to do was simply obey. But Jason's rules went against Daddy's a _lot_. So even that was confusing!

Dick wanted consistency. He wanted Daddy. But the thing to do, right now was really decide if he could obey Jason's rules or not. The ones that were different from Daddy's. Dick would've done this sooner, but everything had just been so busy! Dick didn't know what would happen if he decided he couldn't follow Jason's rules. He'd never been in a place like this before.

Surely, Jason would be terribly angry if Dick decided he couldn't follow the man's rules. Dick gulped. He didn't want to make Jason angry. Not when Jason had been so kind to him!

But if he decided Jason's rules were against Daddy's, Dick didn't have a choice. Sighing, Dick sat down and rubbed his temples. Daddy didn't encourage thinking. Maybe Dick would be punished worse than ever _ever_ before when he got home. Dick hoped so. That would be easy. Dick loved Jason super much, but sometimes he wished Jason would go away because he made everything so _confusing_. Which was an awful, horrible thing to think, and Dick was a hideous child even for thinking that. But none of this was helping him decide anything.

Dick sighed. He was only used to thinking about Daddy. But it was time to get down to business. Daddy had given him rules and said never to break the rules.

But even Daddy couldn't have expected this! But Daddy was always right! But if he was in a different place, didn't he need different rules to go with the different place? And Jason was Daddy's son too, so Jason was in charge to give him rules too. Dick supposed it came down to whether Jason was in charge to give rules or not. Daddy had never said anything about Dick obeying Daddy's son, but he couldn't have known Jason existed. If Jason had existed… if Dick was the most worthless person ever, then Jason had to be worth more than him, right?

Right. So Jason was Daddy's kid, and worth so much more than Dick was. Dick was sure Jason could give him orders.

But… Jason kept talking about Dick being worth something. Which was weird. Maybe Jason was lying, but it was odd that he seemed so… devoted to the lie. Dick liked being told he was worthless. Jason couldn't be doing this to make Dick feel happy (Jason shouldn't be doing _anything_ to make Dick feel happy, but Dick would think about that later). So why would he say those things? Maybe Dick wasn't worthless where Jason came from. It was an odd thing to think about.

But Dick was sure he was worthless enough to be worthless in any universe. Maybe being nice to people made Jason happy in general. Jason certainently seemed very nice! Next to Daddy, Jason was the nicest person Dick had ever met! (Not that Dick could remember meeting any other people, but that was normal for worthless people like him). That was probably it. Jason like making people happy, so he was making Dick happy. Because he was stuck with Dick and there was no one else to be nice to.

Dick felt very sorry for Jason, being stuck here with Dick. Dick would try to be as nice as he possibly ever could, to make things as great for Jason as possible. Yes. That would be wonderful.

* * *

Jason's fist smashed a hole in the wall. He'd cover it up later. Right now he was MADMADMAD and there wasn't anything to properly fight to get rid of his anger. Everything about this was _wrong_.

 _Wrong_. Dick being so badly traumatised by Bruce.

 _Wrong_. Jason taking care of the Golden Boy.

 _Wrong_. Jason not being able to fight any criminals.

 _Wrong_. Jason not being able to smoke! He wanted a light, for goodness sake!

But no. Here he was, the responsible adult, taking care of a kid 60 shades too pale, and 500 pounds too light. Jason tried not to breathe too heavily as he peeled himself off the wall, adjusted a picture to cover the hole, and tried to look like a composed, not crumbling adult.

He couldn't do this. Dick would be fine without him for one night. Jason needed to go punch the underworld in the face. At least get a grasp on what sort of crime they had here! He'd leave tonight. Dick would be fine. Jason just… needed to blow off steam before he blew up here. Replacement and Demon Spawn would be here soon. For better or for worse.

Replacement was definitely for the better. If B hadn't got them home by that time, the big brain kid could probably find a way. The real question was Demon Spawn. Damian. What would he do? If this were anyone but Dickie, Jason would say there was no chance for anything but catastrophe. But this was Dickie, who was definitely the Demon's all time favorite person, so maybe the chances of calamity were only around 98%.

Damian would probably try to be helpful, since this was Dick. But Damian was not good with this sort of thing. And besides: all the batboys _minus the real Dick_ under one roof? WIth little to no crime fighting? Armageddon. Definitely.

Jason was in the middle of planning how exactly to acquire firearms and do vigilante stuff when there weren't any other superheroes, when Dick walked in.

"Thank you, Jason. Thinking time was very nice."

Jason grinned at the kid, and knew that if the boy had been trained, he would be seeing the glass around the edges. Cracked, fragile glass, shattering and screaming…

"Jason, are you alright?"

Right, the kid had been trained to pick up on when his 'masters' were in distress.

"I'll be fine, kiddo. Now, come on, do you know how to play hide and seek?"

Jason figured this would be a good way to train the kid in places to hide in case they were attacked or something, and it would let him judge a whole bunch of the kid's other skills.

"No, Jason."

"Alright, at first, I hide somewhere in this room, while you count to 30 outside. Then you come find me. If you find me, you win. If you can't find me after 15 minutes, I win."

Dick smiled. "That sounds like fun! Okay, Jason!" Dick ran outside the doorway quickly. Jason was just wondering why he was so excited all of a sudden. Oh well. Maybe he'd figure it out later.

Jason looked around the room before selecting a fairly easy but still partially challenging hiding spot.

He finished adjusting himself as Dick hit 28, and had settled down by 30. The sound of light footsteps entered the room, and Jason could just imagine Dick's head whipping every which way as he tried to look everywhere at once. Dick's footsteps dashed around the room as the boy no doubt tried looking everywhere at once.

Obviously, Dick had never needed to search for a hiding person before.

Dick quickly paused in running around like a headless chicken, and seemed to start to think things over. Critical thinking skills. Good.

Dick then began to search inside the cabinets and behind curtains, quickly eliminating easy hiding places. Pausing, Dick then started checking under chairs before pacing around in confusion.

Jason, of course, couldn't see any of this, but he could guess most of what was happening from what scuffling and blurry shapes he could make out.

Dick then proceeded to check impossible places, like under the couch. Jason was pretty sure Dick even looked under the rug.

Eventually, Dick collapsed against the couch in frustration. Immediately, the boy jumped up with a squeal, and Jason popped his head up from under the couch's blanket, where he had been hiding among the lumps of pillows.

"Looks like you found me."

Dick gave a surprised giggle, then bounced on his toes, laughing. "You hid super well, Jason! I checked under the carpet!"

Apparently, Jason had been right.

"You did pretty well for your first time. You sure you're not a professional hide-and-seeker?"

Dick shook his head seriously, but he was trying to hide his grin. "Nuh uh. This is my first time!"

"Really?" Jason raised a fake skeptical eyebrow. "Well then, this calls for celebration. We're gonna get some ice cream, and then we're gonna watch a movie." It occured to Jason that he needed some new things to do with Dick… didn't too much screen time hurt the eyes or something? Dick, however, did not seem to have any such reservations.

"Wow! Thanks Jason! May we watch your favorite movie?"

"Uhh… I don't think you'd like that one very much."

"No?"

"Yeah… it's probably a bit scary for you."

"Are there agents from…" Dick's voice trailed off as he glanced around, almost as if looking for monsters in the shadows. " _Child Protective Services_?"

Jason almost choked. "Uhhh no."

Dick let out a sigh of relief. "Well, I can't think of anything scarier than _that_."

"I think we're probably do better with Finding Nemo. The dad in that story is really great with his kid and he learns some important stuff about being a father." Jason would probably have to skip the very beginning with Coral dying… but Dick would still understand the movie well enough without it.)

"Okay! Let's go find Nemo!"

Jason smiled and made some response, but didn't tell Dick that Finding Nemo had been a story he'd liked a lot as a kid, before and after Bruce took him in. As the two settled down, Dick in Jason's lap, and after Jason had skipped the first few minutes of the movie (with a brief toned down explanation of the setting) Jason's mind dredged up everything he had tried to put behind him.

 **I admit that I didn't expect Jason to become so central to my story, but next chapter is going to be all Jason Todd, what he thinks, how he feels, and why he does so. Funny how stories take a life of their own!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14**

Willis Todd had not been a good father. He could have been worse, Jason supposed, but he wasn't by any means _good_. Alcoholic, negligent, and abusive more than occasionally, there had been times where Jason had just wanted to run and run and never come back… but his mom needed him. And… he loved Willis, he guessed. Love was stupid like that.

The first time he'd seen Finding Nemo, he'd been 9. Watching the entrance with a _barracuda eating Coral and the unborn children_ had convinced him that _this_ movie was hardcore enough to be worth watching. There had been some kind woman who'd seen him on the streets and thought to help him, letting him into her home. She had even let him watch a movie. (When the movie finished he'd run away. It was a Monday, and dad always came home drunk from Sunday nights at the bar on Mondays.)

But before he'd run away, he'd seen the movie and… Just and. Marlin had been… overprotective, sure but Jason wouldn't have minded someone protecting him instead of it being the other way around. Just, you know, every once in a while. Besides, trekking the ocean to look for his lost son? No one loved Jason like that… but he wished someone had. He'd thought back to that movie so many times over the years, just wishing. Childish, foolish wishes, but wishing all the same.

And then one day someone decided he was worth fighting for, worth pulling out of the slums and loving and providing for and Jason had let down his eternal, hardwalled guard under Bruce, and he had been happy. And then he died. But, whatever.

Before dying, he had loved that movie, because then he'd had a father who (it seemed) loved him… maybe not like Marlin loved Nemo, but it was kinda nice to see that protection and wish Bruce showed it more often for Jason Todd, and not just Robin. It felt nice though, after being captured by villain of the month or whatever to have Batman get all big and bad and just beat the snot out of the guy. That had been important, that Bruce would protect him (the first good quality he'd ever seen in a father). And then the Joker had killed him and Bruce hadn't avenged him. But, whatever.

Fishes aside, Willis had been horrible. Jason remembered coming home and time after time receiving beatings, either those meant for himself or those meant for his mother. Most of the time he'd felt like he'd deserved them - Willis had sure been pretty emphatic on _that_ point.

Positive contact, like hugs, had been rare from his father, and because Jason had been a stupid little kid, he had wanted them. Because Jason had been a stupid little kid, Willis had been able to use such affection as currency 'Jay, I gave you a hug you little snot. Don't you think you owe me something in return?'

It wasn't like it had _all_ been like that, Jason guessed… there had been _one_ time they'd done something together. Dad and son, courtesy of inattentive circus goers and the sticky fingers of thieves. There had been a boy there, at the circus. Dick Grayson. Jason had never forgotten the name and had been shocked to encounter the kid later (as his brother no less! (And yeah, they weren't actually brothers until a long time later, but Jason was ignoring that.)

But Jason… Jason had been inspired by the boy on the trapeze. The boy who could fly. The boy who obviously loved his parents and had parents who loved him and didn't let anything keep him on the ground. Jason had wanted, more than anything, to be that boy.

Then he met Batman and the Justice League, and it seemed everyone else was of the same opinion. It was also obvious that Jason was not that boy, and just as obvious as _that_ was that no one was particularly happy about the fact, including Batman.

A better father than Willis Todd, Bruce may have been, but every day, all the time it was: Dick did it like this, Dick did it like that, why aren't you more perfect (see examples under: Dick Grayson). And it didn't make it any easier that Dick stubbornly refused to do _anything_ around Jason, or the Manor, for that reason. Even the Golden Boy, his idol and the one everyone had expected him to become, the one who had inspired a lonely street boy with nothing than a movie about talking fish… even he had no time to spare for Jason.

Jason had supposed that was his fault, taking the blame upon himself and trying harderharderharder. Tried to be perfect so hard that he got himself killed. And then he came back, and suddenly he didn't think it had been his fault anymore. Suddenly Bruce should have been a better father, Alfred had been complacent, and Dick should have BEEN THERE.

Jason had screamed and raged and the world had screamed with him, because he made it, because he _needed it_ too. It was their fault, and all they did was shove him in Arkham, label him crazy, HURT HIM more and more and it wasn't _right_.

Eventually he had learned that some of it had been his fault. Some. He was a murderer now. Yes, he'd been pit crazed, but not completely out of control of his actions. A lot of the stuff he did as Robin was dumb, and endangered more people than himself. he'd hurt his family, his friends, everyone who'd known him… he deserved hate and scorn.

But still… he had been so, so angry. Because they had mistreated him and expected him either not to know or not to care. And Jason couldn't live with that… but… he wanted his family. He wanted love and acceptance and now he was an _older brother_? Tim and Damian? How could this be a good idea?

But he wanted a family, and so he reformed as much as he could… but wouldn't let himself be the little boy again. Jason Todd died alone because no one was willing to get close to him, to love him. The Red Hood would die alone because he would never love anyone else, not like they wanted.

Sure, he could play niceynice with Golden Boy, Replacement and Demon Spawn, and sure, he could hold off killing and stay under Batman's roof from time to time, and he did love them… But it couldn't be the same. It just couldn't. He was, deep down, a loner. Call him damaged, call him defensive, but no.

He couldn't trust them the same way, not again. They hadn't earned it, Jason hadn't earned it - nobody was getting it. Never again. Not anyone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, so NEVER EVER EVER remove a bullet if you aren't a trained professional and certainly don't dig it out, but I'm working with comics laws of physics. In the comics, they do this kinda stuff, so I'm gonna say that they still can, since this is still in the comic universe. So: not real life, but comic life. And I am working with comic physics. Don't try this at home.**

 **And we've passed 20,000 views! Thank you so much to my great readers and followers who've stuck around so long! I assure you, the best is yet to come!**

There was not anyone but Dick Grayson who could possibly have made the prospect of leaving in the middle of the night seem more like a terrible, selfish decision than the small boy tucked into bed.

Jason glanced guiltily at the small lump under the covers, before turning away, black boots treating quietly against the lightly carpeted floor.

Nearly kneehigh boots with black pants tucked into the tops pulled into a black belt with two pistols tucked against his sides, concealed by the black leather jacket over a black long sleeved shirt. A black ski mask clenched in his hand would complete the look, unbroken except for the holes for the eyes. An assortment of knives were stashed in any convenient place he could find. Jason wasn't going for memorable: he shouldn't be here long, so there was no need to go for his usual look. The jacket was simply practical: covering pockets, intimidation, and if he needed to use his shirt to wrap a wound, he could wear the jacket over the top.

Jason refused to be guilted by an unconscious 8 year old. Sometimes grownups had to do things they didn't want to do - that was life. It was Jason's responsibility to go help people, and no matter what Dick thought, it was _still_ Jason's responsibility. Jason turned around and walked out the door. He stopped in the kitchen to leave a note in case he was late, and then he walked out of Wayne manor.

He didn't have kevlar, but if he stayed in the shadows he might not need it. There were no supervillains here, and he'd gone low tech before. He was street smart, and that translated well to any universe he could get thrown into. Jason made his way down to the Gotham streets, keeping his head down, but eyes flickering to take in every detail of the world around him.

The internet could only tell you so much. Sometimes you needed to see things for yourself. Get your feet dirty. No website would tell you about how close to the sidewalk's edge scantily clad girls dared walk, and google could never tell you how many people's hands shifted to their guns at the sight of a scruffy looking man. No. Sometimes you needed to get into the sewer to chase out the rats.

Jason moved farther into the city's underbelly. Passersby were fewer, here, suspicious or threatening looks more common. Jason slowed down, deciding that this was where he'd make his mark. He moved into a dirty alleyway, glancing around to ensure he was alone.

Quickly he hefted himself up a rusting fire escape, making his way to the top of the building, loose stone crumbling under his feet. Just like home. He pulled the mask from his jacket pocket and slipped it on, making sure it wouldn't shift and cover his eyes. He left the safeties on his guns. The likelihood that the time it would take to release them would be important wasn't near high enough to risk their going off at an inconvenient moment.

Releasing your safeties this early was a rookie mistake, and Jason was anything but a rookie. His entire body went still, conserving energy, a python waiting for the strike. Fidgeting was a rookie mistake too. Wasted energy, made you easier to notice.

Normally Jason had his helmet which would let him zoom in on anything suspicious. Right now he didn't. That was fine. Technology was a luxury. He was perfectly prepared without it.

A scream. The python was released and Jason Todd was transformed into The Red Hood, a deadly weapon that maximized efficiency with nothing to distract it. Normally, he would be operating differently, but new universe: new rules. The Red Hood dove into action.

Mugging, possible escalation into rape if left unaffected. Red Hood leapt from the roof, rebounding off the fire escape to slam feet first into one of the men, both of his guns going up to shoot the wrists of two of the man's accomplices. The tendons that controlled their trigger fingers were completely severed.

Cries rose from the gang of five, or rather, of the four that were left. Keeping his head low, Hood dashed forward, guns firing upon the wrists of the remaining two men. Ridding them of the ability to fire was crutal. If your opponent has a weapon, neutralise it before anything else, for the maximum safety of yourself and civilians.

Hood positioned himself so that the woman was roughly behind him, the men's attention focused firmly on himself. They raced forward with indignant cries, as two bullets shot out the kneecaps of their leader. The man howled as he fell, a hand clawing forward. Hood raced forward, a kick snapping the man's head upward and his consciousness into oblivion.

The two left came at Hood from either side. Leaping into the air, Hood kicked the man on the left across the face, while grabbing the other by the collar and launching him into a wall. The two were dazed, but not out. A solid kick to the head sent one into unconsciousness, while a solid smack in the head from Hood's pistol finished off the last goon.

The whole ordeal had taken 1 minute and 15 seconds. Breathing barely elevated, Red Hood turned his attention to the woman. She was shaking, wide eyed, and gasping open mouthed.

"Be careful around here. Where are you going, and how long will it take you to get there?"

There were a few silent moments as the woman's mouth moved and nothing came out. After a few more seconds, in which Hood let her collect herself, she managed words again, eyes dilated and shifting, shoulders trembling and knees shaking. "I… My apartment. I'm going to my apartment. Well, it's my sister's apartment really. I'm visiting, I'm from Star city. I'm just visiting, but Julia, my sister, she lives here. I'm Jessica. I'm Jessica. Hi."

Victim was rambling, and panicked. Definitely needed an escort. "How far from here?"

"I… 5 minutes. It's 5 minutes."

"You'll get there safely. Go on." Hood disappeared back up to the roofs, keeping a careful eye on the woman, who was still glancing around, as if unable to believe she was safe. Pulling a phone from his pocket, Hood dialed the police. There was still a chance they could be properly put in jail. Hood didn't want to expose himself too much, though, so it would be difficult to ensure there would be enough evidence to get these scum properly convicted.

Oh well. The woman was safe, though. She had began to walk, hurrying, back along the litter covered decrepit pavement. Gotham's cold winds swirled around her, lifting the edges of her coat, brushing up the dirt and dust that never fully settled but was always there. Nothing in Gotham was ever clean. Just less dirty.

Jason followed her back to her sister's apartment, watching as she stumbled up the steps; shoved herself inside the door. Jason turned away, senses growing more and more attuned to the city around him, an acid burned, chemical choked, collection of rock and glass and metal.

Cigarette smoke mingled with exhaust fumes, men and women in scruffy coats bunched together inside dilapidated buildings, condemned to destruction but uncaringly left to nature and the overflowing masses of humanity - more homeless occupying the buildings now than when they had been structurally sound. Strangely colored water pooled at the entry grates to sewers, a man muffled a cough, trying not to appear weak.

Jason decided this place was quite similar to his Gotham after all.

A flash of movement caught his attention from behind him. Red Hood decided there was very little difference between the two cities.

This gang didn't have guns. They had knives. They were advancing on another female; a teenager. Attempted rape. There were six of them. All males. Hood leapt down, roundhouse kicking the one closest to the girl, and sending two more bullets toward the kneecaps of two of his conspirators.

Moving as fast as he could, Hood continued forward in a hail of metal and blood. Screams barely penetrated his consciousness, serving only as warnings as to his foes locations. Hood pivoted on the remaining three members, launching himself toward the two that were close together. He wasn't shooting anymore: he needed to conserve his ammo. an uppercut kaoed the one to his right, but the one on the left swung his knife, and Hood had to raise an arm to deflect it. He spun into a roundhouse kick to slam the man into the wall, but a resounding **BANG** tore through the alley.

Red Hood reeled forward as the bullet tore through his back, near his left shoulder. He had been wrong. One of them had had a gun. He pivoted instantly, clicking the safety onto his gun, and throwing the metal weapon toward his opponent as a makeshift batarang. Strike. He looked over his work, ensuring they were all unconscious.

He walked back to his gun and stooped to pick it up, wincing at the movement of his shoulder. It wasn't lethal, or _too_ dangerous. But it hurt, and it would definitely need attention, especially without the normal supplies he would have to deal with a wound like this.

He made sure the girl got home safely. She would be fine. Jason needed to get back to the manor, and he needed to do it now. Moving up to the rooftops, he fashioned a bandage from his shirt, leaving the jacket on normally.

Once arriving at the manor, he made his way to one of the bathrooms near Alfred's room. He remembered seeing some real medical supplies around here. Alfred still had them probably as a result of his time in Her Majesty's secret service. Locking the door, he took off the jacket and unwrapped the shirt. Standing in front of the sink's mirror, he picked up a long pair of forceps, giving a wince in anticipation of pulling out the bullet, which was definitely still in there, and it felt like it was in one piece.

Jason thanked his lucky stars that the thug hadn't had better aim, and probably hadn't had that good of a gun either. It wasn't too uncommon for people too poor to do much anything else with their lives to get any kind of gun they could and start mugging people. However, not all of the guns were new, or even second hand. Sometimes they were more than badly used, and not everyone knew how to check quality. Besides, most everyone was desperate enough to want any gun.

Jason finally found the bullet, through a clever combination of a handheld and bathroom mirror. Wincing, he managed to pry the thing out, dropping it in the sink with a clattering clink. Sighing, he made eye contact with himself in the mirror, before looking away.

He hadn't been able to stand his reflection since coming back.

Grabbing disinfectant and a towel, he set to work cleaning the wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but had started up again after removing the bullet. He pushed the towel against the wound, the pressure slowing the bleeding.

Jason sighed, eyes dropping to the bloody shirt. What was he going to do? He'd had so much worse, but… he returned to the wound.

When normal people got shot, oftentimes the bullet wasn't even supposed to be removed. Unfortunately, for bats, this wasn't such an option. Getting too many bullets stuck in your body forever would look quite strange when getting x-rays or going through airport security, especially as highly prominent Waynes.

Jason was legally dead, but he still didn't need to leave that many bullets inside him. Too much attention to be attracted. There was no reason to get called out at every airport he went to because he'd been in a hundred fights too many. Also, with as many weird villains as they faced, there was always a substantial chance that the bullets all had trackers in them, or were poisoned. No reason to risk it.

Jason applied disinfectant to the wound, before a bandage. Lots of people also tend to think you're supposed to do something to close a bullet wound, like stitch it shut, but with a simple entry wound like this, it was better to just leave the thing at a bandage.

Jason leaned his head against the wall, sighing as the cool wall pressed against his warm skin, black hair pushing up over his forehead. He was tired. He probably had a slight fever - it happened, sometimes, after being shot. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen with Dick. He wanted to go punch criminals with a quirky archer who knew when not to ask questions and an alien supermodel everyone was jealous of.

Instead he was stuck caring for an eight year old - cooking eggs, watching Disney movies and playing hide and seek. How the mighty had fallen.

And what was he going to tell that eight year old? The wall wasn't warm yet, but Jason pulled his head away and began replacing the medical supplies. He picked up the bloody shirt and jacket, decided them a lost cause, and started walking to the back yard.

This couldn't keep happening. What would have happened if he'd been killed? What would Dick do? Surely the kid would think himself abandoned… would he kill himself for that? Would he be able to care for himself? Surely he had the resources… and Tim and Damian were coming soon… but they weren't here yet.

No. The Red Hood was grounded until Dick was safe. Jason had a responsibility now, and, until Tim and Damian returned, no way to pass that responsibility off to anyone else.

Jason moved into the backyard, walked a good ways from the house, and started rubbing some sticks together.

Dick would need to be told that Tim and Damian were coming. It seemed that there would be no immedient rescue coming, and even if there would be, there was no reason to risk whatever might happen at Dick's confusion at two strangers appearing in the house. Besides, what if Timmy's calculations were wrong, and they appeared sooner than expected? There were only three days left till they were supposed to come back, but they could reappear sooner.

A fire leapt from the sticks, and Jason tossed the shirt down, careful not to smother the flames.

It had been irresponsible to keep the truth from Dick this long, based solely on the hope that he would be spared having to invest in the situation further. But then there was the other question.

He would tell Dick about Tim and Damian coming, but did the kid need to know about their double lives? It would spare Jason having to keep the truth from him, and perhaps get the kid to not worry about following Jason's rules vs Daddy's, but it might also worry the kid a _lot_.

And Dick probably wasn't going to be able to keep their identities secret if it came down to it. And what if Dick told Daddy somehow? Jason's intentions were for Daddy to die, but his other family members might somehow get him in jail and while that wouldn't stop Jason from killing him, there was still time to do… something. Maybe not realistically… since there were no secret identities in Daddy's universe… but Jason knew better than to underestimate Bruce, in any universe under any circumstances.

No, there was probably no reason to tell Dick their identities. Maybe they should tell him something about how he should trust Batman and his allies, though…

Jason stood there a little longer, watching the flames leap around the jacket and shirt, light casting strange shadows over the yard, dancing and flickering and leaping and burning and destroying and reducing anything in its way to _dust_.

Jason blinked, stumbling back a few steps. He needed to get back to the mansion… he was cold and definitely feverish. Kicking dirt over the fire, he made his way back to the house, smoke curling into the sky before disappearing, nothing but a cold pile of ashes to testify that it had ever been.


	17. Chapter 17

Dick blinked up happily at Jason in the morning, the older man having been awakened by the younger's morning stirrings.

"Good morning, Dickie."

"Good morning, Jason!" Dick beamed as Jason sloppily reached up to ruffle Dick's hair.

Dick started pushing himself up as Jason moved forward, but the little boy slowed, suddenly, gazing worriedly at Jason.

"Jason, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"You got up during nighttime. I thought maybe you were sick. And there's something under your shirt."

Observant little rugrat. "I went outside for a walk, and I did get a little hurt, but I've had worse." All true… technically. Wonder Woman wouldn't be happy, but since when had Jason done anything for _her_?

"I'll be okay." Seriously, though, he should've known Dick would catch on to him. "You know, Dick, I've got a super super special surprise for you today. I'll tell you about it right after breakfast, m'kay?"

Dick looked extremely excited at the prospect of a surprise, and hopped up so fast he bounced a bit on the bed. A worried look ghosted over his face before he seemed to push it away, and scampered over to the door.

Jason pushed himself out of bed, plastering on a smile for the hyperactive kid.

He ambled over to the bathroom to get cleaned up and shave. Dick looked like he was trying to not bounce on his toes by the door.

Jason turned the shaving cream over in his hands - he'd forgotten what it was like to use a rich guy's cream. Mostly he didn't use any at all, but it was kinda fun and soothing to watch the white fluff peel away in clean cut rows.

After finishing up, Jason walked out the door, where Dick was dressed and brushed already. Jason placed the kid on his shoulders out of instinct, and ducked as he walked out the doorway, Dick plastered himself over Jason's head, giggling.

Dick leaned over Jason's head, hair hanging down as he gave Jason an upside down smile. "I'm taller than you."

Jason snorted, and blew in Dick's face. The kid crinkled his nose and popped out of view again. Jason smiled, remembering doing the same thing to Bruce, once upon a memory.

Waltzing into the kitchen Jason grinned as he noticed Dick running about 10 times faster than normal to grab all the supplies. Someone was excited.

After watching Dick scarf his food down like Bizzaro on pizza night, and after making sure to draw his own meal out as much as possible to annoy Dick, Jason finally leaned back and stretched. Dick tapped a staccato buzz role on the table, leaning forward with eager eyes and bated breaths. He definitely wasn't aware he was doing any of it.

"Well… I wonder if we we're going to do anything today. Whatever could I have had planned…"

Dick was shaking now, hands no longer tapping, and he looked like he wanted to explode in helpful energy.

Sigh "Well, if I can't remember…"

"You said there was a surmise! Surprise!"

"A surmise? I don't remember any…"

"No, no, a surprise!"

"Why so I did! I have it now!"

Dick was stretched out across the table, fingers outstretched and eyes saucers.

"This isn't just any surprise. This is one of the greatest surprise of all time. In fact, there have been 5 great surprise rated in history in order of most surprising and awesome, but _this one_ is going to leave them all in the _dust_." So what, Dick hadn't seen _The Princess Bride_. Which. Actually was criminal and had to be fixed. But first the kid looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.

"You see, Dick there are about to be a couple more people coming here. Their names are Tim And Damian, and they'll get here in 2 days. And they are not just any two boys. You see, they are also… your older brothers."

"..."

"..."

Jaw drop. Eyes fully wide. Shoulders limp. Pupils dilated. "I… I.. I HAVE THREE OLDER BROTHERS?"

Jason felt a grin spreading uncontrollably across his face. "Uh, huh!"

"I… I… What are they like? What's their favorite color? What's their favorite movie? Do they like ice cream? Will they like me? I love them!"

"Hey, slow down, squirt! They love you. They think you're the greatest thing in the world."

"When will they be here?"

"Two days."

"We… we have to get the house ready for them! What are they like? What do they want from me?"

"They want you to be their little baby brother, and they want you to be safe and know how amazing you are." So far Dick wasn't listening when Jason said stuff like this, but maybe he would if Baby Bird and Demon said it. Of course… that would mean Damian would have to say it…

"Um… what should we do to get the house ready?"

"Well…" Visions of pink bedrooms and signs saying ' _Red Hood was the greatest Robin ever_ ' and ' _Batman is a sissy_ ' (because he's not going to teach Dickie any _really_ bad words) flash through his head, but he disgards them. He wants Dick to have the best relationship possible with his brothers, and tricking the kid into pranking them is probably a bad idea.

"Well… first I guess we should make some food for them." What did you even do for younger siblings you were excited to see? Jason usually just shot at them less. That probably wouldn't work for Dick.

Dick looked up eagerly, eyes trained solely on Jason as he waited for the older man to deliver every answer deemed most important in Dick's little universe. Jason decided that was a lot of pressure.

"Yeah! I bet they're hungry from coming all the way over here!"

Jason had purposely avoided thinking about whether they'd had any kind of food over there. There wasn't anything he could do to help them either way. "We'll have to make all kinds off food. And coffee. Timmy lives off coffee. _And he's gonna die off coffee_ ," Jason mumbled to himself, considering the middle Robins' horrendous dietary choices.

"Now we also have to remember that precious little Dami is vegetarian. Do you know what that means?"

"Nuh, uh!"

"It means he doesn't like eating meat. He's kinda dumb like that. So we haf'ta make sure we don't make anything with meat in it, okay?"

"Gotcha!" Dick started running around the kitchen, grabbing food and utensils like an insane man.

"You got ideas for what to make, shortstack?"

Dick skidded to a halt, a deer in the headlights of accusation. Jason mentally sighed. "Dick, you're better than me at this. You have ideas; we do 'em. Now, what are we making?"

"Umm… I was just… sorry?"

"No sorries." Jason placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You're in charge. What are we doing?"

* * *

As it turned out, baking an insane amount of food, (that would last over two days) took a long time, and resulted in fun games of: 'Find the Pantry' and 'What to do with Food you Used Baking Soda on Instead of Baking Powder'. Then Jason decided that as a mature and responsible older brother he absolutely _had_ to introduce Dick to the concept of a food fight.

* * *

Jason was hiding behind the kitchen counter with a bowl of flower mixed with some food coloring he'd hastily thrown in. Dick would come by soon, and then Jason would begin the greatest war of his career. Dick moved forward, innocent and oh, so naive. Jason leapt forward, and flung his weapon at the 8 year old.

" _Food Fight_!"

Dick jerked backwards, shock and confusion playing across his face.

"We shall now have war!" Jason cried, leaping onto the counters and grabbing some marshmallows to throw at the disoriented child.

They hit target, and Dick backed up hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth.

"Try hitting me more than I get you!" Jason cried, vaulting over the refrigerator to land in front of the door.

Dick, hesitantly threw a couple M&Ms at him, which Jason allowed to hit. "Good job! That's the spirit!" Jason sprinted to the counter to throw some more flour at Dick, who dodged (mostly) this time, and ran to throw some marshmallows at Jason who allowed a few to hit.

"I'm wounded!" Jason cried dramatically, ensuring to project the fact that he was, in fact, kidding, and throwing up a rush of peanuts toward Dick, who was hesitantly dodging to the side. Dick actually managed to barely get hit, and threw some more M&Ms at Jason, letting the individual candies bounce off the counter into a multidirectional hail of sugar. Kid was getting good.

Jason laughed, shielding his face with his arms, and popping a few chocolates into his mouth, before throwing a lump of cheese at Dick's chest. It hit him, bouncing onto the floor, where Dick gave it a confused glance before moving forward toward Jason, fingers outstretched for some stray marshmallows, when he knocked over a plastic pitcher of kool aid. Jason, who had been anticipating marshmallows, made an 'O' of surprise, as the green sea poured over his face.

And chest. And arms, obviously. And… yeah, they'd made too much kool aid.

And Dick... Okay, damage control time. Except… maybe this could be good. If Dick knew he had messed up in (what was probably in Dick's mind) big-time, and if he knew that Jason didn't care, then maybe he could start healing or something.

Jason had been thinking that a lot recently. Flashes of green and water and _hedidn'tkillhimwhywhywhyI'mgoingtokillhim_ jarred him into the depressing knowledge that it might be a very very long time before anything could even make an _impact_ on the poor kids psyche.

"Well, I wasn't really considering going swimming today, but you seem to have other ideas!" Jason gave the kid a grin, trying to project as much cheerfulness as possible without seeming creepy.

Jason moved forward, and scooped Dick into his arms, shaking the kool aid from his hair and onto Dick. "This, is a very normal part of having brothers. Happens all the time. In fact, if you've never spilled any food one one of your siblings, you are probably not a human being."

Dick looked up at him in confusion at his nonsensical statement, while Jason made a show of licking the kool aid from around his mouth.

"And look, now we got to taste test our product!" Dick, looking somewhat unconvinced, started placing on a small smile.

"Come on, squirt. I think we've got enough baking done for today. It's all gotta last two days anyway… we can make some more perishable stuff the day before." Jason started carrying Dick out of the room, glad the floors were either tile or washable carpet. This world's Bruce was obviously well acquainted with the trials of children.

"Okay, now the first thing to do is to get changed." After that… hmm. Tim liked coffee… they could get coffee maybe? Damian liked… pointy objects? Jason figured he was putting way too much thought into this. The ideas was to make Dick happy, not Tim and Damian. What made Dick happy? Bright colors. Physical contact. Other people being happy.

If Replacement and Demon Spawn didn't act happy, Jason would kill them. Easy one. Physical contact. Movie night? Were they doing too many of those? A family movie musical could work. Bright colors…

"Next we're gonna make banners!"

This was doubly beautiful. This world's Bruce was gonna come back home and be all like: _'what happened to my house? Who trashed my house with bright colors?'_ Jason refused, by the way, to believe that there was any 15 year old left in him. Any sane person (or otherwise) would find the prospect funny.

"Oh! How do we do that?"

Hmm… there was always the option of ordering ludicrously expensive premade banners… he could always play it off as a long range order from the Bahamas, or wherever Bruce was right now… but Dick would enjoy making banners more. Besides, premades might be expensive, but handcrafted ones could be so much more _messy_.

"Whelp, If the art supply room is in the same place here as it is back home, then we can just pick up some paper off the printer and decorate with markers and glitter or something."

"How do we spell their names?"

Jason started walking down the hall, Dick practically skipping at his heels. "T-i-m. D-a-m-i-a-n."

"Okay!" Something seemed to occur to Dick. "Do they have nicknames too?"

"Well, 'Tim', by itself, is short for Timothy. Nobody but stuffy rich people call him Timothy, though. I call him 'baby bird' or…" Replacement. Hmm… Dick… may not take well to that nickname. How could he understand the concept of insulting nicknames? Especially since Jason _hadn't_ made the name out of brotherly rivalry: he'd hated Tim. He still wasn't all flowery with the family…

"Jason? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Oops. Took to long to reply.

"Ohh… you must really miss him, huh? Since he's away in the other place and you're here." Dick's look of concern was entirely too self incriminating for Jason's taste.

"I was just thinking. It's okay. I've been in excellent company, and they'll be here soon." Jason shot Dick a reassuring smile, before swinging open a door.

Definitely not an art room.

"Hmm. This is not an art room."

Dick shifted, looking like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he was allowed."

"You got some 2 cents, pipsqueak?"

"This isn't where the art room is in my world."

It occured to Jason that the art room had been moved in his world because Mr Freeze had attacked the manor once, and now they stored incongruous villain repellent materials where the art room had used to be. It was more strategically located.

"Well then, lead on, kid. Where's yours?"

As it turned out, Dick's art room (and the art room of this world) were both located where Jason's old art room had been. They might need to get around to mapping out this manor… Jason didn't at all like the idea of not knowing the layout of a place he was going to be living for who knew how long. But that was a problem for later.

Jason pulled down some of the larger sheets of paper while Dick found tape, and whatever else stood out to him. Before long, they had a pile of paper, tape, colored pencils, markers, stamps, glue, glitter, glitter glue and streamers. This was going to be interesting. Also, Jason insisted on making the banners in the main living room, because it was bigger (because the mess would freak out Bruce more).

"What are their favorite colors?"

"Red for both."

"What's yours?"

"Red."

"What's daddy's? In your world?"

"Black."

"Oh."

Dick carefully picked out a bright red and began to color the 'D' in 'Damian'. "Is there anything I should know about them?"

"Well… Damian's really prickly, okay? He kinda comes off as really mean, sometimes, but he actually is kinda nice when you get to know him. He was raised by his mom at first, and she… did some mean stuff to him, so he's not very good at doing things with people, now."

Dick looked up, eyes wide, unfamiliar with much more about Damian than his name and heartbroken anyway.

"Tim isn't really mean, but he spends time by himself a _lot_. But he needs to spend more time with people, so you don't let him hole up in his room all the time, hear? He likes people, he just works too hard and needs some help spending time with people."

Dick nodded seriously, evidently completely prepared to undertake in this most important mission.

"Also, Damian really likes animals, so he isn't gonna be too happy to come here and not have his pets. But. He'll be fine."

Dick nodded again, and sprinkled some black glitter around Damian's name. "Okay. Where are we gonna put these?"

"Around the living room. I don't think they're coming in the door, so it won't be any good to put 'm in the entrance."

"Aren't they gonna be mad about the mess?"

"Naw. Tim's sixteen and Damian's eleven. Tim's the messiest person in the world, and Damian will be annoyed, but it'll be a good annoyed. Annoying yer brothers is about the bes' definition of havin' siblings I know."

Dick glanced up, eyes squinting as he eyed Jason in surprise. "Your voice got funny!"

Jason jerked in surprise, as he realized that Dick was correct. His stupid, street rat, Gotham accent, making an appearance again. Normally, Jason was trained out of that: an identifying accent being nothing but useless in practically all areas of life, and dangerous in vigilantedom, as a serious threat to one's secret identity. But sometimes, _sometimes_ , when his guard was off and he was just… him… it came back, all determined to prove to everybody where he _really_ came from: not from wealth or prestige but from the _gutters_.

Normally it wasn't a problem: Jason didn't tend to relax around people. Apparently he was gonna have to be more on his guard.

"Yeah, I know, it does that sometimes. Pass me some glitter glue?" Hopefully Dick would be distracted…

"What color?"

"Bright purple. We will put cut out flowers on the poster and cover it in purple glitter glue."

Dick giggled. "I like that. Will they like that?"

"They would like anything that came from you."

Dick ducked his head. "Really?"

"Really, really, squirt."

Dick giggled. It was an obvious lie, but Dick thought it a very nice one. "Well I like everything that comes from you."

Jason startled a little. Dumb kid. Always surprising him. "Really?"

"Really, really, Chicken!"

Jason barked out a laugh. This was new! He… he had not forseen Dick doing this. Honestly.

"Ah. What?"

"Ummm...I… I gave you a nickname?" Dick looked up nervously. "I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to be bad! I… I… I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!"

"Hey… hey, kid, calm down. Why'd you name me _Chicken_?"

"I… I just… I heard that chickens are really scary if you make 'em mad and they fight for their kids and family… and you seem like you'd do that… and chickens do that thing where… with their kids… they, like, put them under their wings? To protect them? And you kinda do that with me, so… I thought…"

Dick ducked his head and hunched his shoulders guiltily, trembling under their weight of his perceived failure. "I'm sorry."

Jason smiled. "Don't be. It's a good name."

Dick looked up dubiously.

"Besides. You seem to have me pegged. It's a good name. It's from you. I shall henceforth proceed to wear it with honor." Jason proceeded to dramatically tap his chest with the bottle of glue, smearing some on his chest. Thus proceeded an overly dramatized rendition of Jason trying to smear glitter glue off his chest with his hands, which, for some reason only made things worse.

Dick was in hysterics by the time Jason was professing his hand to be part of a conspiracy against him dedicated to ruining his hair. The poster was quickly becoming covered in random splotches of glitter and marker ink.

"J-Jason?"

Jason gave him a fake scowl. "Yes?"

"Will Tim and Damian be mad that we ruined their poster?"

No. No. No,no,no,no. Dick didn't get to keep doing this. Just for one second, couldn't the kid just… relax? Have fun? _Be_ a kid?

It wasn't fair and it wasn't...

" _No_. They _won't_ be mad. They'll be very happy that we put so much time and effort into this because we're _brothers_ and we _do_ that."

"...Okay… If it isn't okay will they want to hit me?" Emerald streaked through Dick's hair. Dick ducked his head, lime colored eyes shining and dragging and his fingers bumped into markers of olive and shamrock and crocodile and neon and _forest_ and when did _mosquitoes_ get in the manor and _when did they get so_ _loud **so loud**_ **!**

"Jason?" Dick's hair was black. His voice was high. Pupils dilated. Shaking. His eyes were blue. His throat bobbed. "Are… did I do something wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Jason pulled himself to his feet. "You keep working on the poster. I'm gonna… clear my head."

Jason pulled his fist out of the hole in the wall. Plaster paled the skin in dry flakes. His teeth ached from grinding. He wondered, on some level, if Dick could hear him in the hallway. He glanced around to make sure this was the right hallway. It was a bit farther away than he'd intended. It was fine. He was stupid.

What had he been thinking? He couldn't be around children. Look at him. Pit crazy. He could've hurt Dick! He could've… had he told Dick where he was going? Had Dick followed him out of the room? Had he told Dick not to follow him? _Had_ he attacked Dick? Shivering, he clenched his fingers together, leaning against the wall.

He couldn't leave. Whatever happened, Dick needed him for now. Once Tim got here… he could take care of the kid. Jason was no suitable guardian. Once Tim got here Jason could be free to go patrol. He could do that. If he was feeling particularly helpful maybe he could take Damian with him. Get the kid out of the way. But he couldn't be around Dick. He just… couldn't. Couldn't couldn't couldn't. Dick was small and breakable and trusting. He'd just be hurt by Jason's insanity.

Jason couldn't control this. He could turn on a dime. Normal one moment, crazy the next. The pit _didn't_ _care_ it didn't care about what was happening and how could he be so _incoherent_ and _uncontrollable_ he could _hurt_ Dick. He couldn't even remember… what if he spaced out and hurt Dick or left him somewhere and didn't remember it? His thoughts didn't make sense, _he_ didn't make sense, _nothing_ made sense and _everything_ was _chaos_ and everything was _green_...

But Jason was stuck here for now. He had to keep it together. He had to. And he had to do it without supervillains and guns. Normally he could just go kill something. Now he couldn't. Jason slid to the ground. Criss cross applesauce. Indian style. It was _supposed_ to be Indian style but that wasn't 'politically correct'. Bruce said it was criss cross applesauce. Bruce was stupid. 'Criss cross applesauce' was a stupid name. It was long. It rhymed. It wasn't cool. Indians were cool. They had bows and arrows and horses and…

Jason didn't know when he'd closed his eyes. He didn't know how long they'd stayed closed. But, he was calmer. Calm enough to be around people. Dragging himself to his feet and pushed into the room again, wood sliding over his fingertips, sending shivers up his spine. He didn't like wood on his fingers. Nails on a chalkboard.

Smile. Hope it wasn't predatory. Hope it isn't too forced. "Hey, kid."

"Jason. Hi. I worked on the poster. Like you said. I put on glitter. And smiley faces." Dick offered a small hopeful smile. Tentative. Jason was a wild animal that could strike at any time. Had Dick ever seen a wild animal? Yes. Had he recognised it as one, would he recognise Jason? BruceDaddykillmurderguns WAKEUP

"Good job." Voice rough. Scratching. "Dick I'm… I'm sick. Okay. I'm… I'm just gonna sit down over here and watch you. Ah… bein' sick. It makes me… snappy. So just… be quiet. I'm not mad at'cha. I just need quiet. We're good. Kid."

Jason forced himself into a chair. Shouldn't have thought of **HIM** daddy NO. Calm. Calm as a leaf on a pond. Ripples come and go. Float with the ripples. Let them carry you.

"Do you need medicine?"

"No. It'll go i'self."

Dick nodded, and continued coloring, flashing Jason worried glances every couple minutes.


	18. Chapter 18

Jason stared at the ceiling. Traced the bumps on it with his eyes and drew constellations with his mind. It was dark in the bedroom, but not dark enough. Not dark enough to drown out the screaming.

Tim and Damian would be here tomorrow. They could get a layout of the house then. More people. Faster. Tim and Damian would eventually have to do it themselves, anyway. Might as well wait a day. Of course, Jason really should've checked the clock himself by now. He'd do that today. Tim and Damian would also insist on personally investigating, but Jason should try it anyway. In case.

Medical supplies. Tim and Damian hadn't known where they were going, not really. They could be hurt. They could be half starved if there was no food. Jason didn't want to scare Dick. But he couldn't just not be prepared for wounded brothers so he could shelter Dick. (There was another possibility concerning what might have happened to Tim and Damian, but that scared him too much to consider.)

Should Dick even be there? If Tim and Damian were hurt… Jason might need help. Dick had basic first aid knowledge. It could come in handy. Yes. Dick should be there. He should be warned, and he should be there. If they were hurt, Jason could take them to one of the spare bedrooms by the emergency bedroom (it was located right next to a bathroom with extra medical supplies.)

There was plenty of room in the bedroom to store both boys, and with all the medical supplies in the bathroom, they should be fine… maybe Jason should be ordering medical supplies. If they were in critical condition and there were no appropriate medical supplies in the house, was Jason willing to take them to a hospital? What was the worst that could happen? What might become of Dick? Would he be hidden in the house or played off as some random orphan they were taking care of?

Jason sighed, Dick rising and falling from his position on his older brother's chest. He wasn't in any condition to think about stuff like this. He was still seeing green eat at the corners of his vision and his heartbeat was still too fast… and he couldn't sleep. He wasn't in the best condition to think, either. But he had to. And Dick helped.

If Tim and Damian were too hurt, they'd just have to go to a hospital. There was no way around it. Maybe Leslie was here. Maybe Jason would just think up a story for the doctors.

The first thing he'd do (after breakfast) was check the clock. If there were medical supplies in the cave, that would solve some problems for sure. If not… there was no reason for Tim and Damian to be hurt. Starving, maybe. Maybe in need of an IV. He could always drive to the hospital. But there wasn't a great enough risk of danger to order in extra supplies and risk blowing their cover. Bruce's instructions, still useful in any universe it appeared.

Yay Bruce.

Jason traced warriors and death in the ceiling until the sun raised hand against the darkness and pierced the curtains, lying in obtrusive stripes across the bed.

Jason's arm twitched, half asleep from the eight-year-old atop it and rose up to ruffle Dick's thick black hair.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Rise and shine. Up and at em."

Dick yawned, turned over, and sat up. Smiled. "Hello, Jason. Are you not sick anymore?"

"Heya kid. I'm feeling alot better. You ready to finish up getting ready for your brothers?"

Dick's grin almost split his face. "Yeah!"

Jason pulled Dick into his lap and swung his legs off the bed, Dick's arms wrapping around his brother's neck as his head tilted back. Jason lumbered out of bed, stretching out his back as he staggered over to the bathroom. "Why don't you use this bathroom, kid? I'll head over and use other Dick's. It'll be faster that way."

Dick gave him an inquisitive glance.

"Yes, I'm sure Dick wouldn't mind. Brothers, remember? Brother's use each other's stuff without asking. Now scram. We can have pancakes before we start having to feed Damian. It'll be nice. See ya in a few."

Jason sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he moved into Dick's room. As soon as the room's door was shut, he promptly started searching the room top to bottom. If this Dick was like the one Jason knew… yes. Pictures. Lots of pictures. More pictures than anyone could need, of the entire family… Jason. 12, 13, 14, 15…. 16. Not dead. 17, 18, 19… alive. Alive and smiling and well… there was Tim. They'd been a whole family here. What could that have been like…

There was a tightness to young Jason's eyes, though. Not dead perhaps, but strained somehow. Perhaps he'd run away from the family? Pictures of Tim began overwhelming Jason's. Was this it? Jason was just destined to be apart from his family? No. No, Jason never believed in destiny. Nothing controlled Jason but himself. And occasional bouts of Pit craze.

Putting the book back where he'd found it, Jason rose to his feet. He'd do whatever was right. Whatever helped Dick. No transcendent force could get in his way. He was Jason Todd. Death couldn't stop him. What chance did a little thing like destiny have?

* * *

Following a trip back to his own bathroom (no way was he using Dick's girly deodorant) he walked into the kitchen. Dick glanced up at him, already making pancakes, and flashed a smile. Still cautious. Still worried about Jason.

"I'll be okay, kiddo."

"'Kay, Chicken."

Jason ducked his head and snorted quietly. He was getting teased for that name for sure. He'd have to mention it to Replacement and Demon Spawn before Dick brought it up in front of them…

* * *

"Jason?"

"Yep?"

"Umm… will this stain if I get it on stuff?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "What, the syrup?"

"Yeah… I haven't had any before and, um…"

"Nah, it'll be cool. This stuff all washes. Besides, B's a billionaire. He can replace anything that gets broke. Trust me, I've broken all kinds of stuff. Vases, statues, chandeliers, valuable plates… it's part of having kids. Stuff gets broke. Whatever you manage to do with syrup (and I don't think anything'll happen) can't touch the stuff I've come up with!"

Dick stared in shock at the news of such irreverent exploits.

"And that's nothing compared to what Damian did! When he came to the manor he took a sword to the bushes and…" and that was not something normal kids did... Um... "Aaaaand… well, you see. It was a family heirloom. The sword. An ordinary heirloom. And Damian just kinda: whacked at the bushes in the front lawn, you know the ones that look like animals? The ones Alfred made look like animals? Damian totally whacked at those. It was pretty funny. Damian wasn't trying to do anything wrong, see, he didn't know it was wrong, cause where he came from in… um, that is, I mean, they didn't have many bushes where he came from, in Arabia, so he couldn't have known about how to treat bushes, right?"

Dick nodded slowly. Jason quickly made resolution to be much more careful about what he told Dick about their family.

Jason stood up and clapped his hands together, as Dick resumed plowing through his pancakes. Kid didn't eat a whole lot. "So, do you think those posters have finished drying by now?"

"Yes, Jason."

"Great! When you finish we can put those up and in the meantime… I'm gonna go check Bruce's study for something, okay? You finish up, and I'll be right back. We can put those things up together."

Dick smiled. "I'd like that, Jason."

"Great! So would I. See you in a sec."

Clock, clock. Grandfather clock. 10:47... Already at 10:47, not moving. Interesting. Jason tugged at the piece of machinery. Nothing happened. He put his back into it. The clock shifted away from the wall. Nothing but the smooth expanse of plaster. Jason knocked at it and felt along for any signs of it's being able to slide away. Nothing.

Here was a bet that this Bruce always kept the clock at 10:47 because _symbolism_ even if it didn't lead to the Batcave.

Sighing, Jason dropped his head against the wall. So. No Batman. No Batcave. Not a surprise, but disappointing. Well, he had posters to tape. Tim would be here tomorrow. If all went well, he only had one more day to be responsible for a kid. After that… he could leave.


	19. Chapter 19

"Alright kid, time to get this show on the road!"

Dick looked up eagerly from the dishes he was putting away (washed and dried, of course: not that Jason had mentioned it).

"You know, we have a dishwasher."

"Handwashing doesn't use as much water or soap!" Dick smiled as his smaller hand was enveloped in Jason's callused ones.

"You're a responsible kid, but you don't haf'ta do that."

"Yes, Jason."

As they entered the living room, Jason immediately began scanning for places that would leave the most annoying mess possible. If the banner was over the couch would it drip glitter onto unsuspecting heads? Could posters possibly be hung to block the view of the TV? All important questions, with so many possible answers! But first of all, they should be somewhere Dick could reach to help hang them up.

"Where will they come from?" Dick asked excitedly, tugging at Jason's hand.

"Um, remember where I walked out of when I got here?"

"Yeah."

"There, probably."

"Okay… where will they walk in from?"

Jason pointed.

"Okay, so the posters could…" Dick trailed off, hesitant.

"Go on."

"Well, if they looked that way they could see them. And we could maybe… have some look the other ways too, just in case. And since, I mean if they walk around they'd still be able to see them."

"Good plan."

"Jason?" Jason started picking up the left side of the main banner.

"Yeah."

"What if they don't like them? Because I did them too."

"Dick." Jason looked his brother in the eye. "If they didn't like our poster, they would be stupid. They are not stupid. Therefore, they will like our poster."

"...Oh." Dick walked to the other side of the poster and picked it up carefully to avoid wrinkling it. He backed up a step to keep it taut.

"Okay. I have the tape." Jason reached back with a foot to drag a chair forward. "I'll stand on the seat of this thing and we can tape this thing to that part of the ceiling that sticks down some. I don't know what it's called. Can you balance safely on an armrest?"

"Yes, Jason." Dick backed up a little, while Jason moved forward. Dick moved up to the armrest and Jason stepped on the seat of the chair. Which was annoying. Jason liked being tall, and he was almost tall enough to place up the poster. But not quite.

Jason hunched over as much as he could without seeming weird. "Aw, man, this ceiling is so low ! I'm gonna hit my head on it or something…" He finished taping his corner. "Hold your corner there. Up a little. Yeah. Hold it there."

Jason jumped down and made a show of stretching. He quickly pushed back the chair, as if Dick would forget that he'd used one.

He hopped up onto the seat beside Dick, making sure to not jostle the kid too much. He steadied the kid with his hands before reaching up to take Dick's corner to the ceiling. "You're lucky I'm so tall."

Dick grinned up at him. "Yeah! You're the tallest person I've ever seen!"

"Well, that's 'cause I eat my vegetables," Jason informed Dick, flexing an arm at the eight-year-old.

"I've never seen you eat any vegetables."

"French fries are made from potatoes and are therefore vegetables. I eat many french fries. Therefore, I eat many vegetables."

Dick smiled and nodded. "Okay! Where does the next one go?"

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Okay, Jason. Can everything be super extra perfect for when they get here?"

Jason chuckled. "Yeah…"

"Can we make a checklist?"

"'Kay." Jason walked to a stationary cabinet and retrieved pencil and paper. A list was soon compiled.

DICK'S CHECKLIST

fruit for breakfast - X  
banners in the living room - X  
lunch and supper non-perishables - X  
ingredients prepared for baking fresh foods tomorrow - X  
rooms for Tim and Damian cleaned up -

"Okay, Jason, all we gotta do now is clean up their rooms!"

JASON'S CHECKLIST

basic first aid supplies - X  
knives in case something evil happened to follow Tim and Damian - X  
gun -  
map (even a mental one) of the manor -  
car to potentially take people to a hospital - X  
mental map to the nearest/best hospital - X  
another gun -  
bullets -  
advanced medical supplies -  
interdimensional transporting device -  
'Daddy's' head on a stick -

"Well, it sounds like we have almost everything we need, then!" Smile and nod, Jason Todd. Smile and nod.


	20. Chapter 20

Jason slept that night for a few reasons. For one thing, he was tired from not sleeping last night. For another, he had to. There was a chance tomorrow could result in some very draining high-stress situations. At the very least Dick was going to be all over the place and Tim and Damian would need to be briefed on the situation. And then there was Damian. What would _he_ do with Dick?

Jason worried and wondered and planned. But, finally, he slept.

And woke up to the unfamiliar situation of Dick lying stiff as a board beside him, eyes wide in anticipation.

"So… excited huh?"

Dick's head whipped around, and Jason was presented with the beaming radiance of a smile that would give Jason's own Dick Grayson a run for his money.

"I'm so happy."

Jason smiled. "So am I. You know, we do have to wait till 10:40ish till they get here. It's only…" he glanced at the clock. "8:30."

Dick's face screwed up as he sighed through his nose. "Yeah. I know. But it's really close!"

"Yeah. It sure is, kid."

Dick grinned and shifted, shoulders and chest twitching as he glanced toward the door. Jason laughed, deep and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. "You ready to go?"

Dick nodded, eyes shining eagerly. "Yeah!"

* * *

Jason, reclining against a wall, grinned to himself as he watched Dick run around like a headless chicken, double and triple checking everything he could think of to make sure everything was _perfect_.

Dick Grayson, Jason was sure, was a good kid.

Dick tripped over his feet and face-planted into the ground.

"Whoa, there, shrimp." Jason strode over and pulled Dick to his feet by his collar. "You good?"

Dick nodded emphatically, glancing around with vigor. Obviously, kid was anxious to go and quadruple check everything.

"Look. Dick. I don't want to worry you or anything, but we gotta talk a little. Kay?"

Dick looked up at him inquisitively.

"Look, when Tim and Damian get here… I dunno. They could be hurt, okay? We don't know. They may not have got enough to eat, wherever they were… you just gotta be ready to help me take 'em to the bathroom with those medical supplies, kay? Now I'm not say'in they're gonna be hurt. But they might. So. You just gotta be ready, alright kid? They'll probably be fine." Jason ruffled Dick's hair. "But we'll just be ready in case, right?"

Dick nodded hesitantly. "They'll be okay?"

Jason smiled, big and hopeful and reassuring. "Of course." Now, there was the fact that they may very well be okay. Jason didn't know. They could be fine and dandy. They could also not, but maybe they were fine.

Jason hopped to his feet and clapped his hands together. "Okay! Let's go!"

* * *

Jason scanned the room and wondered if he'd forgotten anything. Behind him, Dick shifted foot to foot, scanning the room for any sign of teleporting older brothers. The furniture in the room had all been moved out (Jason didn't _think_ anyone would suddenly materialize inside a table, but that was no reason to take chances.) Taking a deep breath, Jason decided that he'd done everything he could think of. It was time to stop worrying.

Turning around, he smiled at Dick. "Now it's time for the really hard part."

Dick looked up inquisitively.

"Waiting."

Dick wrinkled his nose, took a deep breath, and balanced on the tips of his feet. "What time is it?"

Jason checked his watch. "10:13."

"Do they _have_ to get here at 10:40?"

"No."

Dick flinched. "I already asked that."

"Yep."

Dick's eyes shifted as 'sorry' played on his lips. He settled for ducking his head and slumping his shoulders as repressed energy wracked his tiny body.

Jason reached out and ruffled his hair. Light reached out to caress the room, sloping into corners and lifting the veils of shadows from the nooks and crannies furrowed into the room. Tim and Damian were coming.

Dick gasped, and his hand twitched. Jason enveloped Dick's hand in his own. But only for Dick's comfort. Not to assure himself that no matter what he'd pull one little brother out of this in one piece.

Dick glanced up at him. "Jason, we forgot to plan what to say!"

Jason grinned down at him, hiding the tightness in his eyes. "Kid, something could always throw a wrench in the works. Sometimes the best plan is a vague outline."

Dick nodded violently, hand tensing in Jason's, blue eyes wide as light of gentle rainbow hues played over him.

Tim's hair was black, in stark contrast to the rest of the light playing over his body. Damian's was starting to darken, and the paleness of skin was beginning to make headway as well. Fingers reached out, moving from the haze and establishing themselves as individual digits.

And Tim fell out of the light. Jason reached out at lightning speed, dropping Dick's hand and grabbing Tim before he hit the ground. Balancing him on his left hip, his right arm moved to catch Damian. Good thing Tim was scrawny and Damian was practically a dwarf.

Laying the two on the ground, Jason scanned over their bodies with an efficiency born of practice, death, and more near-death experiences for himself and siblings than he dared to count.

No visible wounds. A quick ghosting over their prone bodies proved that nothing seemed broken, and, more to the point, they were not dying of starvation. Pulses low but fairly steady. Temperature low, but not dangerously so. Dehydration. Quick pupil check: something at least similar to concussion.

Sighing, Jason's shoulders drooped. They should be fine. Turning around, he flashed Dick a thumbs up, chest tight as his eyes. "They're gonna be fine!"

Dick smiled and rushed forward, eyes still shining with worry over his unconscious brothers.

"They need water and sleep, but they should be okay. Help me get Tim on my shoulders, okay? He's real gangly so I can hold him on better. Dami's all little so I can just carry him on my hip. I can even use both hands to hold Timmy on."

Dick helped Jason position Tim, whereupon Jason demonstrated his previous point by draping Tim's body over his shoulders, piggyback, legs and arms dangling over Jason's chest. Damian fit on Jason's right hip, and one of Jason's arms could easily snake around Damian's body and still assist his other hand in holding Tim on by gripping his wrists and ankles.

Dick tagged along behind, 'helping' by telling Jason if it looked like anybody was about to fall off.

Jason made way to the bedroom, and, having left the door open earlier, walked in to lay down first Damian, then Tim, ignoring the fact that there were two beds in the room and placing them on the same one. Then he tucked them in together as close as physically possible.

Just because he was setting a good example for DIck didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. He finally had brothers he could prank again!

"Alrighty, Dick, let's get some real fluffy blankets and some heating pads. They're a little chilly, so we're gonna warm 'em up."

Dick nodded vigorously and dashed off down the hall for blankets. Jason now came to a dilemma. Should he, or should he not attempt to wake the two? Rest would probably be good for them, rest was dangerous? It could be that the longer they were unconscious, the harder it would be to wake them. There was only one option, really. If it could be dangerous for them to stay asleep, they'd have to be woken up.

Jason moved into the adjoining bathroom and retrieved some smelling salts. Good thing this Bruce was, as well, well prepared.

He walked back into the room at about the same time as Dick returned. "Hold up, kid. We're waking 'em up, first. You can put those on the other bed for now…" Jason waved a hand vaguely, as Dick complied in his peripheral vision.

Positioning himself beside Damian (smaller and in more danger) Jason placed the ammonia inhalants under the boy's nose. Lightly patting his cheek, Jason pursed his lips. "C'mon, kiddo. Wakey wakey."

Damian twitched.

" _Damian. Don't be scared, but you need to wake up."_ Code for: Damian, you're in danger. Wake up. Be civilian.

They were all supposed to respond to their own phrases, even if unconscious. As much as possible.

Damian squirmed. His eyelids fluttered.

Jason glanced to the side, and Dick's eyes were wide as saucers, trained on Damian as if he were the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. Jason veiled a twinge of jealousy.

Damian coughed. His eyes fluttered open. Jason pushed Dick back slightly. Damian was sure to be discombobulated, and the sight of his precious Grayson in miniature was not going to help anyone.

"Hello. Do you know my name?"

"Todd. Only you would [cough, cough] presume that I could [cough] forget someth-[gasp]-ing that sim-[cough]-ple."

"Do you know your name?"

Damian gave him a dirty look as he took deep breaths. "You are purposefully…" Damian trailed off, glaring at Jason, eyes sliding out of focus. Jason sighed. He didn't think the two were in any danger. Tim should be fine without being woken.

"Go to sleep, brat. It's good. We'll wake ya' up later."

Damian did so, but not before giving Jason a lovely stink eye. Jason huffed a laugh at the eleven year old and turned back to Dick.

"Well, they're gonna sleep a while, and then they're gonna be okay. The worst that's happened is that we now have too much food, and should probably make soup. That aside, most of the food we made should keep pretty well. So we should all be fine!"

Dick looked at Jason curiously, shifted his eyes, and smiled at him, nodding shallowly. "Okay."

Jason sighed. "You got a question?"

Dick shook his head no. Jason nodded his head yes.

"Yes, you do, I can tell. What is it? Jason stretched and cracks moved up his back.

"Um… why call Damian a brat? I thought you liked him?"

Jason winced. Oops. Him and his big mouth. "Uhh… that's… complicated, see. See, sometimes siblings will… that is… they insult each other, but it's because they like each other. Really. It's like wrestling, but with words. You aren't _really_ trying to hurt anyone's feelings, but…" Jason yawned. Seriously. It had been a stressful week. His schedule was all thrown off, nights were spent worrying, and days were spent trying to anticipate every problem Dick could possibly have and solving them before they happened.

And now Tim and Damian were here. Crazy to the fifth power. Yeah, no.

"Okay. Dick. I'm tired. It's about to get really crazy in here, and I want a nap, because soon I'm not gonna be able to get one. You tired?"

Dick shook his head no. "I can stay in here and make sure nothing happens to them!"

Jason smiled. You know what, kid, you do that. Sounds great. Tell me if they start waking up, kay?"

Considering the trek to his room, he reconsidered. Sometimes, being in a mansion had some cons. Stupid distance between _everything_ in the house was one. Yeah, no.

"I'm just gonna be right down the hall, kay? If you need me." Dick nodded, smiling, and Jason took a break from babysitting /emergency med prep and took a nap. Just before he drifted off, he had the flash that taking naps was exactly what he'd made fun of Bruce for doing when he was 14 and naive. How the tables had turned…

* * *

Jason yawned, rolled over, and checked his watch. 12:52. Yeah. Lunch. That. Tim and Damian might be ready to eat. Jason shoved the cocoon of blankets from his legs, mourning the cold already. Shoving his feet into his shoes he lumbered down the hall. Pushing open the door, he looked in on Dick keeping dutiful guard over his brothers. Dick didn't hear him come in (bats were always silent), so Jason cleared his throat as he shifted forward to creak against the wooden floor.

Dick glanced up and smiled. Happy. Peaceful.

"Hi, Jason! They didn't wake up and nothing happened."

"Well something happened to me; I got some sleep. Dick, appreciate sleep." Jason pushed off the wall towards Tim and Damian. "It's great."

Dick looked a little confused, but nodded. "Yes, Jason."

Jason sighed. "That wasn't an order…" settling down beside Tim and Damian, he started poking Damian's cheek. "Hey. Hey, kid. Dami. Damipoo. Damsisnookiwookums."

Glancing over his shoulder Jason reconsidered Dick. "Um, Dick? They're gonna be confused enough already when they wake up, so if you could just step into the hallway for a little bit so they can't see you, that would be great. They know what you look like as a kid, and they'll be real confused if they wake up and see their big brother size small. You can come right in in a few minutes, they'll be real happy to see you."

Dick nodded, slid off the bed, and dashed into the hallway. Jason turned back to his mini assassin of a brother. "Damian. You need to wake up now. Come on."

Damian groaned weakly and his arm twitched as if to bat Jason away like a whining insect. "Ooodd."

Jason grinned. "You can do better than that. What, the mighty heir of the demon rendered dumb by a simple jaunt through dimensions? _Todd_. Say it with me: _Tod_ -"

As it turned out, Damian had very quickly regained use of his fist.

* * *

"All right Tim." Jason demanded, wondering how he could be tired right after sleeping and wondering if he should have brought an ice pack with him. "It is your turn to wake up. Do it now." Jason shook Tim's shoulder roughly, conscious of a pouting baby assassin behind his shoulder. Tim moaned something that sounded like 'coffee' and tried to bury his face in the pillow.

"No, no, no." Jason declared, pulling the blanket fully off of Tim, picking the teenager up, and holding him sideways in the air, arms, legs and head dangling limply. Tim was not happy with this turn of events, and started kicking feebly, eyes fluttering open. Jason dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. "Up Timbers. There are things you must know." Jason grinned at his siblings, being sure to put a warning glint into his eyes. Damian was awake enough to recognize it, and Jason had a quietly authoritative hand on Tim's shoulder to give him the message.

"Tim, Damian, you are never going to believe what happened."

"Waed." Tim interrupted. "Izzer coffee? Ah smell coffe."

"No." Jason responded smugly. "That is a coffee scented candle, thank you for waking up and talking, you can have coffee when you get lunch."

Tim looked offended and slightly betrayed, but turned his head towards Jason grudgingly.

"We have gone to a different universe. While I know that this is confusing and kinda scary for all of us," _insert meaningful glance here_ "we are just going to have to get through this as a family." Tim blinked at him in confusion, raising an eyebrow. Damian opened his mouth. Damian was not allowed to open his mouth.

"Also, that family is a little bigger than we thought it was going to be… we all know our dear big brother Dick, correct?"

At the mention of Dick, Damian straighted, an invisible rod up his spine.

"Well, when I came here, I learned that Dick was here too! Kind of! He's a little kid: 8 years old! And we're going to take care of him! He's a little bit of an ACK." Jason smiled, and it didn't touch his eyes. An ACK was an informal code word for an Abused Civilian Kid: helpful because it could easily be incorporated into conversation in front of civilians. "He used to live with his version of Bruce, who is not here, but we really need to find him."

Damian's eyes had widened before narrowing, undoubtedly already planning Bruce's demise. Tim looked a lot more awake, and also somewhat sick, undoubtedly planning how to track Bruce down. He also seemed to be scanning the room for signs of eight year old children.

"Dick, come on in! Your brothers would like to give you a hug!" Jason had scarcely finished his sentence before Dick pummeled into Damian, pulling back and moving forward at once, beaming and happy beyond all imagining.

"Damian!" Dick's voice was saturated in disbelief and wonder, adoration pouring from his face, an almost worshipping shine in his eyes. Damian stared down at the child with his arms tight around his chest. That was exactly how he used to look at his mother.


	21. Chapter 21

Damian Al Ghul Wayne was not accustomed to confusion. He was not accustomed to indecisiveness, fear, or sympathy, and _certainly_ not empathy. And yet. Here he was with a small boy in his arms: a boy he looked up to as… something, and here he was, feeling everything he had been expressly trained not to feel. And remembering things he had vowed never to remember. Damian did not yet fully understand what his mother had done to him in her labyrinth halls of smooth tile and her grandiose rooms of imposing centuries of history. But he had come to some understanding that what had been done to him was… wrong. That the respect, awe, adoration and even worship with which he had viewed his mother was undeserved, and even some derivative of abominable that he did not yet fully understand.

What Damian did know was that there was no cause for Grayson ( _Grayson_ ) to look at him as though his presence were the highlight of his life, as if Damian was a god to be worshiped. Damian of old had wished to be regarded as such. To be held in such esteem now did things to his gut that he had no words for.

He pulled a memorized smile onto his face, aligning his muscles with the precision with which he guided his katana, fake because he did not know how to smile, and attempted to pass comfort into Grayson's fragile body. Grayson trembled with joy, and Damian wished he did not remember the one time his mother hugged him.

Grayson pulled himself back, still beaming, eyes bright and flung himself at Drake, who had braced himself against the headboard and was prepared for the bundle of ecstatic energy coming his way.

"Tim!" Grayson snuggled into Drake's chest, arms snaking under Drake's, and Drake held him tight, fingers splaying over ribs and ice blue eyes holding Todd's own. " _When do we talk?"_ His lips asked. Damian agreed inwardly. Todd had great need to explain all transpired events in great detail, especially if the perpetrator of this alleged travesty was Father himself, as Todd made it sound. Alternate reality or no, Damian required extensive evidence before condemning his Father to anything.

" _We'll make supper and talk then."_ Todd replied.

Damian huffed inwardly. It was unacceptable for the blood heir of the Batman to be 'kept in the dark' no matter how long the time. However, as Tiny Grayson was already bouncing on the bed and trying to ask both himself and Drake questions at once, it would appear his attention was needed elsewhere.

"My name is Dick, but you guys already knew that, sorry, I'm really happy to see you, am I allowed to say sorry? Jason says not if he hasn't given me a rule himself, but do you guys want me to say sorry, what's your favorite colors?"

Damian, trained in hundreds of different languages, able to decode the most complex of logarithms within minutes, and most importantly, accustomed to decoding Grayson's rambling when on painkillers, responded before Drake could bumble the attempt.

"Red. His and mine."

"Yay! That's what Jason said-" *Gasp*. Damian cocked his head as Tiny Grayson inhaled all the air in the room. "Okay." Tiny Grayson resumed. "What are the rules?"

Todd moved forward, brow heavy. "Theirs are the same as mine, for now. I'll talk to 'em later. Give 'em a briefing. Till then we're all gonna be the same. Now Timmers here is in desperate need of caffeine, so we're gonna haf'ta go fill him up, and then we'll be all good." Todd reached over and plucked Tiny Grayson off the bed, situating him on his hip. Damian had seen pictures of Grayson at that age, but had not realized quite how small the other boy was.

Drake was already struggling forward at the mention of coffee, the half-witted cretin. _Damian_ was eager to have a long conversation with Todd to ensure that the anti-hero was not manipulating them all to his own nefarious ends. While Damian had no wish to leave the child alone, he supposed Drake could stay to babysit and he could debrief the fool later.

"Damian?" Damian turned to face the stilled child, glancing up at him hopefully through slightly long bangs. "We made veggie burgers. With ketchup. And we have chocolate ice cream."

Damian supposed that interrogations could wait for later. If there were, in fact, burgers with ketchup and chocolate ice cream. He agreed to Tiny Grayson's terms, and reminded himself over the squeals that ice-cream and burgers were the _only_ reason he was going.

Although, he considered, it was very well that there was now someone _competent_ in a position to care for Grayson. He had wished once that he could repay Grayson the debt he owed him for all the man had done in saving him from his mother and himself. Now appeared to be just such a time as to return the favor.

* * *

Upon reaching the dining room, Damian felt nearly carnivorous. Not _quite_ , as he was far too Enlightened to do harm to the vulnerable members of the animal kingdom, but it was well that he was being fed. Tugging Tiny Grayson's arm so that he would be situated between himself and Drake (Drake was an idiot, but at least he was not dangerous like Todd) Damian observed his meal with a gleam in his eye. He also observed, to his disgust, that Drake seemed pleased with his bowl of light soup, a common remedy for the sickness of weak plebeians. On the other hand, he was also disgusted with Todd, who had selected steak. And not overly cooked steak either. Were it not for the presence of Tiny Grayson, Damian would have begun Holy War upon Todd for both the insult and the desecration of innocent cow. And he knew that Todd knew it, too.

"So," Damian turned to the only person in the room who had selected something not revolting (Damian excepted, of course) and began conversation. "As you are the only sane person in the area. You may now make whatever inquiries you wish."

Grayson had built a relationship with Damian by allowing Damian to speak of himself: his interests, preferences and so on, thus making Damian feel valued in a way he had never been before. But abused children often had triggers which were not immediately obvious, and he was not aware of which subjects were safe to probe with Tiny Grayson and which were not. Better to allow him to lead.

Tiny Grayson shifted, hair falling over his eyes, which glanced up bashfully. This was wrong. Grayson was life and energy and embarrassing Damian in public. He was not bashful.

But, Damian reflected, as he watched Tiny Grayson twist his fork and fumble for words, he was considerably adorable. Damian felt that, at least for the duration of which they should keep Tiny Grayson, he had a better understanding of the 'inherent adorableness' of the 'baby of the family'. He wondered if Grayson would still apply that phrase to a younger version of himself. He probably would. The man spent long enough gushing over half blurry photos of himself and Father partaking in ridiculous activities in a time when he was actually of an age to do such things.

"Umm… Did you like your banners?"

"They represented the utmost talent and dedication."

Tiny Grayson gave him a blank confused smile.

"They were colorful and pretty."

Tiny Grayson smiled. "You liked them?"

"Yes."

Tiny Grayson beamed, and Damian decided that no one should be that happy over such a minor compliment, even if it did come from himself.

"Listen, for I am about to speak." This situation was utterly unacceptable and Todd was a fool for not resolving it sooner. Damian had suffered feelings of inadequacy which Grayson had heroically battled through showing Damian his mother's flaws contraposed with Damian's (slight) natural tendency toward goodness and compassion (to animals). Damian would explain to Tiny Grayson that he was endowed with unbelievable goodness, that the deeds of his 'Daddy' were horrific, and Tiny Grayson would thenceforth end this period of depression and despondency and return to his natural state of happiness. So Damian Al Ghul had spoken. So it would be.

"I impart to you that you are-"

"OH LOOK, we're OUT OF MACARONI!"

Damian had never wanted to slay Todd more than this very instant.

"DAMIAN, won't you help me get the macaroni?"

Damian could think of a few other things he would like to give Todd. Who even ate macaroni with underdone steak.

"I AM ABOUT TO-"

"Get the macaroni? Great!"

Todd, the neanderthal, dashed out of his seat, grabbed Damian's arm, and pulled them both into the kitchen. Unfortunately, subpar as the man's skills were, they were sufficient enough that Damian could not disengage without revealing his status as the heir of the Batman. But only because of the remaining vestiges of interdimensional travel sickness.

"Release me, cretin!" Damian hissed. "I was about to deliver Tiny Grayson from his mental bondage, something _you_ utterly failed to do, I might add."

"Listen, Brat." Todd hissed back, leaning over to get closer to Damian. "You don't understand what's going on. You don't know anything. That kid isn't nice ol' Dickie from back home. He's not having a little hissy fit that he's gonna get over with the power of hugs and ice cream and then take you to the petting zoo."

It was well that Damian had not maintained the knives on his person when he appeared, for he would have stabbed Todd where he stood.

"This kid is _broken_. You know how bad you were, how useless and _unworthy_ you felt?"

Todd had never really brought this up before and Damian was without words. He decided that he did not need knives to incapacitate Todd.

"You know how Tim feels like no one loves him and I can't stop expecting everyone I care about to hit me?"

Oh. Damian had no experience with this. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave now. He was showing fear and weakness in front of Todd and it _showed_.

"Combine those and you get Dick. He's not going to _magically_ 'get better' and whatever _does_ get better is going to take a _long time_ , so get that through your dense _skull_."

Todd's grip tightened around Damian's arm and he suddenly very much wished to pull away. "You start talking about how he needs to get _better_ and how _great_ and _perfect_ he is, and how bad _Daddy_ is isn't going to help. He's not ready. He'll have panic attacks. He's got this thing where if he thinks of certain things he gets _blasted with pain_. You don't know what not to talk about. So don't talk about _anything_."

Damian had never been truly frightened of Todd before. But this was a side to the man that he had not seen. A side that was not the grudging assassin who occasionally helped a group of people to whom he was emotionally drawn. Not the murderous madman with fire in his eyes and hate burning in him: with the goal to kill what hurt him and subjugate what he could: nearly an animal, if the animal kingdom would suffer the insult.

This man before him was filled with fire and fury but it had a base. There was a smoldering ember of insanity but the hearth and poker and everything that controlled the fire and insanity was love. Todd cared for Tiny Grayson in a way Damian had never known him to express before. But he was not like Grayson with his smiles and tender caring. Todd was… different. Unknown. Unexplained. Something like Mother with Father's heart and even that did not match Todd.

Damian wondered if Todd realized his eyes had flecks of green.

"GUYS, am I getting macaroni or what?"

Drake. Undoubtedly ensuring that Tiny Grayson cultivated no suspicions nor fears. Prudent of him. Todd's fingers cracked as they released Damian's arm, and Damian started with the surprise that it had fallen asleep.

"Patience Drake! I do everything with perfection, which requires time!" Not his usual level of comeback. He must not be so easily unsettled.

Damian moved the grab the bowl of macaroni on the counter, Todd turning his back, cupping and pressing his hands over his face, inhaling deeply. No doubt composing himself for the benefit of Tiny Grayson. Damian was uncertain of why, but all of a sudden, the moniker seemed to be less fitting for the eight-year-old than he had thought.

Damian lifted the bowl and turned about as Todd shifted towards him and passed his hand over his face, lingering over his mouth and chin. "Damian. Don't tell Dick you're perfect. He already believes it." Damian's step halted as he considered his first meeting with his father. ' _I imagined you taller.'_ He hadn't. He'd known his father's height to the millimeter. And he had seen the man still, in every regard, as perfect. It had been, Damian now knew, a dangerous state of mind.

Damian's gaze matched Todd's. "I understand."

Todd's posture changed completely as they entered the room, and as he swung his arms open upon entering the doorway, Damian realized with a jolt that he was imitating Grayson.

"...once she forgot me in a bar and I had to find someone with a phone and call her. Of course, I didn't have her number, so first I had to use the library's computer… Oh, you're finally back!" Drake turned with a smile to Damian and Todd. "Thought you'd gotten lost. So, anyway, Dick, I used that computer to get my babysitter's number, used the librarian's phone to call her, and got home safe. Something like that ever happen to you?"

So Drake was inquiring about the safety of Tiny Grayson's upbringing, and in an amicable manner, too. Drake would think of something like that.

"No, Tim. I never went outside the manor and I _never_ saw anyone but Daddy. And Daddy doesn't forget stuff ever because he's perfect."

Drake smiled and Damian wondered how old he had been when his babysitter had forgotten him. At a bar, no less!

"Damian, please pass the macaroni."

Damian did so wordlessly. He was used to being compelled to coexist with Drake in public, but he never enjoyed it. Drake took a small portion of macaroni and cheese to fit with his request, but Damian noticed that he only served himself the bare minimum of acceptability. Weak stomach. Typical.

"Damian," Drake began, "Dick says that we already have some fun activities scheduled for today!"

"Wonderful," Damian noted sulkily that Drake was not using his typical civilian voice. This voice was too interested in and excited concerning the outside world to be any variation of 'Timothy Drake' that Damian had yet been exposed to. "I assume you possess the required energy level for these 'activities'?

Damian realized at this point, that Drake was glaring at him, gaze stabbing with the precision of ice and the intensity of fire. Ah. Here was a Tim Drake Damian had been exposed to. Numerous times.

"Oh, I'll be great. Give me an hour or two and I'll be fine. I feel better every minute." It was at this point Damian realized that Tiny Grayson's fragile emotional state may not blend well with his preferred method of expressing himself.

"How wonderful, Drake, I had not realized such care had gone into the preparations for our arrival!" Damian turned to Tiny Grayson. Positive reinforcement. "You have done a highly commendable job in preparations. You have made us very happy." Damian smiled at Tiny Grayson, lacking any other highly complimentary things to say concerning someone he had met an hour ago. Drake, over Tiny Grayson's shoulder, did not look impressed. Well, he was not the Scion of the Shadows and Heir to the Mantle of the Bat. Compliments from _him_ did not mean as much, so he was more used to giving them.

Damian ceased paying attention to Drake. He was about to ask Tiny Grayson what the movie of choice was, when Todd interrupted.

"Hope you guys are ready for _The Incredibles_ !"

Damian had to admit surprise that a movie Todd no doubt had had a sizable hand in picking was revolting to neither himself nor Drake. Actually, _The Incredibles_ was a film in good standing with everyone in the Batfamily, considering its serious potential future problem (government interference with hero work), relatable characters and… interesting action scenes. Even though no one in that movie had any skill at hand to hand combat.

Damian remembered, before speaking, to force himself to smile. "Wonderful. This shall be a most enjoyable evening." He turned to face Tiny Grayson. "Where shall we view this movie?"

Tiny Grayson shifted (he never really seemed to stay still) and grinned (he never seemed to not smile). "Jason and I have been using the living room where we made your banners."

"Then, there we shall go." Damian shot a glance to the still eating Drake. "Are you quite finished?"

"Almost." Drake stuck a spoonful of macaroni in his mouth, swallowed, repeated the process, and plopped down his spoon. "I need to bring coffee with me. And then we can go."

Damian, in the process of rolling his eyes, glimpsed Todd doing the same. It had not been his intention to mirror Todd. But Drake's eating habits were ridiculous.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 21**

Damian kept Tiny Grayson between himself and Drake. Despite Todd's confusing emotions toward Tiny Grayson, Damian was not ready to entrust him with the child's safety. In some way the man was benefiting from having kept Tiny Grayson well so far, or he simply had nothing else to do here. In any case, Damian kept Drake on the other side of Tiny Grayson, and Drake made no move to change his position.

Damian wondered how much Tiny Grayson had understood about the premise of the movie. Moving forward, he leaned over Tiny Grayson's shoulder. Drew breath. "Tiny Gra-" a sharp movement from behind him, Todd's baritone voice-

"Damian, don't!"

"-son.."

Damian was shoved to the side at the same time as Tiny Grayson crumpled to the ground.

Drake was on high alert, weight on the balls of his feet, ready to run either with Tiny Grayson or to get proper medicine.

"You're okay, Dick. You're okay, buddy. Deep breaths."

Damian was unsure of what to do. Todd was not the appropriate caretaker for any form of Grayson. At the same time, he was the most familiar with him. Damian would never express it to anyone, but in that moment he decided he would follow Drake's lead.

Tiny Grayson shuddered in Todd's arms, and Damian recalled what Todd had said about 'blasted with pain'. Tiny Grayson looked up and smiled, and though his eyes watered no tears fell.

"What am I doing down here, Jason? Did I trip?"

"Yeah, kid. You did. But it's s'okay. We got you."

Tiny Grayson continued to smile even as the tiniest tear possible consolidated in the corner of his eye. He pushed his palms into his eyes, and the tear never fell.

Todd pulled the shaking form against his side and hefted it onto his hip, renewing their trek down the hallway. Drake fell in beside and Damian behind and when they reached the living room Todd sent Tiny Grayson to put in the movie.

Todd turned around, holding their eyes, and began mouthing words at Damian and Drake. They could lip read. Tiny Grayson would not hear their conversation.

" _You can't use his name. Grayson. 'Daddy' has some kinda thing on him where if he hears it he has one of those… pain attacks."_

" _Why would Bruce do that?"_ Drake's eyes were stern and hard.

" _To keep Dick from knowing who he is and wanting to leave his 'daddy'. Don't bring up the circus, and_ _ **never**_ _mention the trapeze."_ Todd's frown deepened and Damian wondered how it was possible that _Father_ could do something that horrible to his beloved oldest son. To _Grayson_ .

Tiny Grayson reappeared at Todd's side (Damian realized with a jolt that he would have to find a new name for him) and glanced hesitantly up at everyone. "Is everybody ready for the movie?"

"Of course we are," Damian informed him. "As youngest you may choose your seat of preference."

"Um, wherever you want!"

"Well then," Drake interrupted, " _If_ you don't mind, Dickie; Damian and I would like to cuddle with our new little bro!"

It had, evidently, been the correct thing to say. Tiny Grayson (... Richard?) beamed happily and fairly bounced over to the two, grinning his fool head off. "Okay, Tim! This movie is about a _superhero_ family! A _superhero_ is a nice person who saves people from evil people! Did you know that, Tim? That's silly, I bet you did!"

Drake laughed, and though Damian could see through his pathetic charade, he felt safe to assume that (Richard?) would assume the laugh genuine.

Damian turned to the child, nudging him to gain his attention. "I have a question for you. By which name do you prefer to be called?"

"Well," he began to answer, "you can call me whatever you want. Daddy says my name is Dick, though."

While Damian did not object to 'Daddy' saying Grayson's name was what Grayson _really_ preferred it to be, he had no wish to use that demeaning nickname. He was bound to contract secondhand embarrassment and die, which was no fate worthy of an Al Ghul.

"Are you familiar with the unshortened version of your name?"

Head tilted to the side, blue eyes searched the ceiling for an answer. "No, Damian."

"It is Richard, the name of several kings, meaning 'powerful' and 'strong ruler'. It is highly superior to… the name you currently go by. I understand your predisposition to use it, as the version of you in our world does as well. However, I shall be addressing you as Richard."

"Okay!"

The previews started flashing and Richard turned to Drake. "Tim, did you know my name means powerful strong ruler? It does! And it was the name of a bunch of kings!"

Drake's mouth drew into an O of surprise in Damian's peripheral vision. "What a great name!"

Richard puffed up with pride. "Damian said so, and I think he knows everything but wait, so do you…"

"Nobody knows _everything_ , I just know _almost_ everything. More almost everything than Damian."

Damian made a noise of indignation and was about to launch into a discourse defending his honor, when Jason plopped down beside him, a hurricane of air whisking from his mouth.

"Alriiight! Movie's starting!"

Dick perked up at this news, watching as the Incredible's logo spun across the screen and burst into running shadows. Shaking with excitement, he pressed back into the couch back, planting his feet in the ground.

Drake slipped his hand over Dick's smaller one, and Dick glanced to the side, held Drake's gaze for a second, smiled, and relaxed. Mr Incredible took the screen.

* * *

Jason hadn't been sure about The Incredibles. He didn't know what could happen. Dick had had a pain attack just for learning to defend himself: who knew what onscreen violence would do? On the other hand, it was animated, no one from this movie was exactly a martial artist, and, since so far as Jason knew, no one from Daddy's world had superpowers, Jason didn't _think_ anything would go wrong.

A current list of things from The Incredibles that had not caused pain attacks

Car chases

Tree smashing

Attempted suicide

Bombs

Children disobeying orders from adults

Police

So far, Jason's gamble was paying off. Yay. He was still deciding when to leave Replacement, Spawn, and Dickie Bird by themselves so he could take off. He'd need to stay the day, obviously, so he could brief the Robins on what not to do to Dick: after that he didn't know.

But he couldn't stay; that was obvious. Even after sending Dick into a completely unnecessary pain attack they'd rather block Jason from sitting next to Dick than let the psycho, murderous, epitome of villainy anywhere near their precious Golden Boy. It made Jason sick.

He'd go to Tibet, he'd go to the League of Shadows, he'd see if anyone was still here: if there was anything to be gained from this stupid world so he could get back to his _own_ world and find someone to shoot in the face. He didn't know if he'd be free tomorrow, and he didn't want Dick to think he was just ditching him as soon as he could (Jason ignored the annoying voice that whispered he was doing exactly that), so he might need to extend his stay a little.

But if there was anything Jason had learned under Bruce's tutelage and Dick's absence, it was that there was always _something_ to leave 'family' for.

* * *

"Those people are REAL where you're from?" Dick's head dashed back and forth between brothers so fast he was sure to get whiplash. "Not _those_ exactly," Tim replied, as he leaned grinning into the couch. "But we have superheroes."

"And the greatest superhero of all is The Batman!" Damian butted in. Tim scoffed inwardly. Damian _would_ immediately start trying to convert Dick to the vigilante business.

"He's not really a _superhero_ , Damian, he's a vigilante." Well. Damian wasn't allowed to attack him so he might as well enjoy it.

"Useless interjections such as these are why no one likes you, Drake."

Tim decided that they really needed to calm down before Dick saw something he shouldn't. Clasping a dramatic hand over his heart, Tim tumbled into the armrest, pulling Dick on top of him. Damian started but clearly restrained himself from going after Dick.

"Dick, I've been mortally wounded by our unkind brother."

"Oh!" Dick looked down worriedly into Tim's eyes. "Uh oh! Umm… I'll help!"

" _We're just playing a game,"_ Tim whispered to Dick. Dick's face lit up.

" _Oh! You like to whisper too! I like whispering! Jason and I whisper together and it's really fun!"_

Speaking of Jason (who had, of course, been watching everything amusedly), the annoying zombie stood up, stretched (displaying vulnerability as a human to appeal to Dick's sense of sympathy and camaraderie) and leaned his weight onto his toes (displaying himself as unthreatening and playful) and began to speak.

"Dickie, we have three and a half hours before supper. You want to show 'em what we have planned?"

Dick nodded exuberantly and wrapped his legs around Tim's waist, apparently expecting to be carried. Leading reasons for that expectation included: being spoiled, being comfortable enough with Tim to expect that the assumption wouldn't be an intrusion, and not knowing if he was allowed to leave Tim's arms to comply with Jason.

If what Jason was claiming was true it was probably the last option. Tim was hoping it was the second, but life had long taught him to never assume the better. Tim pushed to his feet, shifting Dick to his hip and grinned down at him, brushing Dick's eyes with his bangs. Dick giggled and squirmed. "Which way, valiant leader?" While Jason might really have good intentions Tim hoped that he wouldn't try anything if Tim was holding Dick in his arms. Dick was an innocent kid: that _should_ be enough for Jason to want to protect him. But Jason was insane. So you never knew.

"That way!" Dick pointed down the hallway, and Tim dutifully moved forward. Damian was directly behind them, close enough that no one could come between them, and Jason moved ahead, long legs quickly pulling him ahead of Tim and Damian. Tim reminded himself that as long as Jason was in sight he probably wasn't planning an ambush. Probably. The chances were not that good.

Damian picked up a conversation with Dick over Tim's shoulder, inquiring into Dick's experience with drawing. Dick's reply that he didn't have much hardly registered as Tim realized they were going outside. He began to speed up but Jason ducked out the door first, a demented grin spreading over his face. Tim reached out to pull the heavy door open, Dick and Damian's voice a ringing in his ears.

The sound of a gun firing filled his ears and Tim's head snapped backward, a spray of liquid slipping down his face.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 22**

Tim reached up and slowly wiped the water from his eyes. Dick spun in his arms and tried to suppress a laugh that came out as a snorting giggle. Dick's small hands helped wipe the water off Tim's face.

"Jason says this is called a Water Battle of Awesomeness."

"No helping the enemy, kid!" Jason tossed a smaller water gun forward, which Dick barely managed to catch. Pointing it at Tim, he tilted his head in question.

Tim grinned, sighing inside, and put the kid on the ground. "Go for it."

Tim had now been sprayed two times in one battle, which was more than he usually got. He noted bemusedly and regretfully that there were no sniper rifles in the pile. Running away from Dick he skidded under Jason's stream to grab two long thin water guns, and fired at both Dick and Jason.

The real question was Damian. Back home, Damian only participated to prove his superiority as 'the true heir of the house of Wayne', but right now they couldn't really have an actual competition. Tim wasn't sure that Damian would be willing to participate in what was really a no-stakes and rather undignified game.

Damian hesitated, uncomfortable in the doorway. Dick glanced over at him. Tim dodged Jason's fire (the man was working with two guns, of course) and dropped into a roll to return fire. They'd have to be careful with what acrobatics they allowed Dick to see.

Dick's head tilted to the side, and he said something: Tim couldn't see what, and since Dick's back was to him he couldn't read his lips. Jason squirted him in the face: Tim was too distracted.

Damian sighed, nodded, and went to grab the largest water gun possible.

"Observe how a real man handles these miscreants, Richard!" Damian's yell resonated across the front yard of Wayne Manor as he charged Tim and Jason. An instinctual pact was created and four guns were immediately pointed at the charging mini ninja. Damian never stopped firing his oversized water gun, but he did use it to shield himself. He took hits. Obviously. Damian's strategy was to get everyone wetter than they got him, once he really started getting involved in a water fight. This, obviously, constituted a victory. Tim was determined not to let him have that victory.

Water slammed into the back of his head. Glaring he spun to his right. This was why he didn't make peace treaties with Jason. Water slammed into his back and Tim was reminded of why you didn't forget about Dick Grayson. Water slammed into his face and stomach and Tim decided that if any more brothers started teaming up on him he was moving to the Phantom Zone.

Dick giggled and sprayed at Jason with his single gun, and Jason hopped to the side, allowing some to hit.

Jason never let anyone hit him.

Tim leaped away from Damian's attack and charged. Usually, he was a sniper. Today, Damian was going down and he didn't care about the cost. Not that he wouldn't dodge. Damian was very limited in having only one gun and not being able to use his krav maga kicks to maneuver his opponent into position.

All in all, Tim had a good time. He purposely tried not to remember Dick's unique approach to Water Fights.

Juggling four water guns to use at once might have made him a vulnerable target on the field, but it never failed to make someone laugh.

* * *

"Very well, we are now alone. Todd, explain yourself. And should you prove false, no force on this or any other Earth shall save you from my wrath." Damian Wayne's subdued but unyielding voice resonated in the corners of the kitchen, echoing the unspoken sentiments of Tim Drake and settling very sourly in Jason Todd's ears.

Dick had been sent to the living room draw many pictures of cats with strict instructions to _stay there_ except in case of an emergency. (Damian had promised to give him pointers on his drawings.) The Batboys were alone to prepare soup and talk strategy.

"He's from some other world. His Bruce is evil. I haven't seen anything to make me think 'supervillain', but he's as bad as one and he's got something in Dick's head. Some things just set off 'pain attacks'. His last name. Learning to fight. Remembering his past. Even just questioning 'Daddy', I think. I don't know what all sets him off yet."

"Why should we believe you?" Tim's voice hung in the room like crystals. Cold, emotionless and not particularly inclined to change.

"Why not? What is there to disbelieve?" Todd spread his hands to his sides, palms outward, and glared at Drake for his insolence. "Ask him who 'Daddy' is. What he wants from Dick. Ask the kid what he thinks about himself!" Damian had an uncomfortable flashback to their kitchen conversation.

"Give us evidence. Give us evidence that this 'Daddy' is Bruce and not a shapeshifter, telepath, alien… isn't Hush! Why should we believe that this _monster_ is Bruce?"

"Why should we not believe that _you_ have done this to Grayson?" Damian demanded. "We do not know if Drake's estimates for the passage of time were correct. You could have brainwashed him or threatened him into-"

"Even Jason," Drake interrupted, tone final, unyielding, "at his very worst would never do this to an innocent child."

"He may not be 'innocent'." Damian's quiet tone belied a bubbling righteous rage. "Suppose he is Robin and this is revenge."

"He's not Robin," Drake responded. "He doesn't have the muscular structure for it. And he can't be newly Robin, either, because his emotions are wrong for having just lost his parents." Drake turned his gaze back to Todd. "What evidence do you have that Bruce would do this."

"What makes you think he wouldn't?" Venom dripped from Todd's tone and melted through the tiles. "Obsessive control freak who reshapes children to fit his demented desires, demands total perfection and gives disproportionate punishments when those desires aren't met WHO DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF?"

"Not Father!" Damian threw his prepubescent voice at Todd and wished it was bigger, big enough to dispel any doubts and fears, big enough to frighten anyone who dared wish them harm into submission. He wished it was the voice of his father. But for all Damian's imitations and masquerades, he did not truly have the voice of his father.

"I need evidence, Jason," Drake said quietly. "Real, solid evidence."

"What do you want me to say, Replacement? I have a description from the kid that nails Bruce to the wall, I have a name, I have the names of B's parents… short of a DNA test, which we aren't equipped for since there's no Batman or Batcave in this universe, I don't know what to tell you."

Drake ducked his head slightly, eyes narrowing. The detective in him could not condemn Father without conclusive evidence. Damian wished his reasons for disbelief were as honorable. Surely Father would be ashamed to see Damian so swayed by emotion.

"I don't suppose it matters," Drake said, finally. "Not yet, anyway. He's been hurt by someone. I believe that. Bruce. Hush, whoever it was… the effects are the same. When we find a way back to our own universe we'll work through the logistics of returning him to the proper guardians and incarcerating the proper villains." Drake focused in on Todd. "I don't suppose you happen to have a _plan_ on how to get back yet."

"Nope." The 'P' popped like a balloon and Todd's shoulders relaxed as he leaned back onto his heels. Once this 'devil-may-care' attitude had fooled Damian into believing the man had no true priorities: perhaps even lacked the ability to grasp meaningfull risk. Whoever else the performance might fool, it no longer held any sway over Damian.

"There's no superheroes here, no supervillains, no interdimensionaly traveling aliens or portals: no aliens _at all_ that've been discovered. 'Course this is all say of the internet. I've been a bit too occupied with Golden Boy Jr to do any _real_ investigations."

Drake crooked his forefinger and pressed it to his mouth as he often did when in thought. "Where are the Waynes? Do we know what happened to them?"

"Officially, they took a little _family vacation_ to some nice secluded islands. Family roster is the same here as there, except I'm just a black sheep, not a zombie. Unofficially… may or may not be off across the universe by whatever brought _us_ here. Dick and I have been holeing up while we wait for 'em to be due to get 'back.

I can't find any recent activity on 'em and I can't contact them, which makes it a pretty good guess that they aren't in this dimension anymore. We may have to figure out a cover story if they stay gone."

"What about Barbara? She might recognize us."

"Not here. I did a search on all our allies." Todd leaned against the counter and made overly exaggerated motions with his hands. "She never got shot. With no Batman, she went through with being a police officer, not a vigilante. Currently, she is conducting an overseas international investigation. Being a normal cop wasn't enough for her. Sur- _prise_ ."

"Fatgirl?" Damian, annoyed and having been faking extreme boredom for as long as he was left out of the conversation, decided to steal Drake's opportunity to inquire into his _girlfriend_. Take that, Drake.

"Bout' what you'd expect. Her dad's a crook. She lives with her mom and does high schooler stuff just like in our world. If we leave we have to look out for her. She's _not_ gone, as far as I know. Could ID us."

It was at this point that Damian came up with a relevant question to contribute, and he was proud to have thought of it before Drake.

"Todd, we face a quandary." Drake was rolling his eyes at the Heir to the Demon's 'smugness' but _he_ had not thought of this question so Damian was clearly superior to him in all ways, particularly in the arena of intelligence. "It appears that we have all been teleported and exchanged, though with no regard to location. I, Grayson, yourself, and Drake have all been displaced, as have our counterparts here. Statistically, it stands to reason that we are only being transported if our double, somewhere, is being transported as well. If that is so, assuming this world's Bruce Wayne is indeed displaced, why has Father not disappeared?"

Drake and Todd exchanged glances. Damian puffed up with pride. And Drake insisted he could not 'contribute to any rational conversation'.

"Well… I did see Bruce as we were leaving, on screen." Drake ventured. "He wasn't disappearing. But since Dick came from an unrelated universe to ours and this one, either Bruce was transported from an entirely different universe, or we just _normally_ exchange with someone. Not always."

"Have you yet checked the clock?" Damian burst back into the conversation, masterfully taking control and rerouting it in whatever direction he chose.

"Yep. Nothin but plaster."

Damian scowled. If there was no Batman here, there _would_ be no Batcave, but that did not mean he was pleased to hear of it. He would investigate himself.

"The manor's not quite the same either. They didn't have to renovate with supervillains in mind, so things'r in the wrong places. I haven't explored it all yet. Figured I'd wait for some more munchkins to come lend big bro a helping hand."

Damian was about to inform Todd of exactly what he would do to his hand (it involved katanas and sharks) when Drake interjected, in the annoying manner Damian had come to expect of him. "Guys. We need to explore and get our bearings. If this world doesn't have our technology, we either have to invent it or wait for rescue. Jason, were we gone for a week?"

"Yep."

"Then according to our projections, the storm should've passed by now, assuming time passes the same here as there. That's enough time for people to begin looking for us, and they should know what happened. That's not a good sign. They should've tracked us down by now."

"Perhaps a new supervillain is threatening Earth."

"Don't tell me Bruce wouldn't do everything possible to find us, even then." Drake sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and seemed to come to a decision.

"We're on our own. Does Dick know our identities?"

"No, and we're not telling him. He couldn't keep the secret, though not for lack of trying, and we'll just scare him."

"Fine. We'll keep that up. Right now, we need to make food." Drake looked up suddenly. "By the way, what happened to Alfred?"

Todd's face betrayed no emotion. "Age. They don't have the same tech here as at home, or medicine either. He's dead."

This should not have hurt. It was not Damian's Pennyworth. But Damian had a sudden urge to run to the backyard and discover if Pennyworth had taken Todd's old burial ground. "If we do not wish Richard to take the same path by starvation we had best prepare some sustenance."

Drake wheeled on him, eyes deep in emotion. "How can you be that heartless, you little… is that really the first thing you think of?"

"If you are going to be overcome by emotions for a man you never knew, Drake, then you are more pathetic than I had imagined." Damian would not be overcome. Damian _could_ not… not for a man he didn't know. It was not the kind of weakness Mother or Father allowed. He purposefully ignored the fact that it was exactly the kind of thing _Grayson_ would allow. If only he were here. Nevertheless, he was not. And Damian was well enough acquainted with both universes to now know that Richard could not be interchanged with Grayson no matter Damian's feelings on the matter. Richard was a broken child, and to treat him otherwise was to demean the pain and experience of either Dick Grayson Damian had come to cherish.

* * *

"Dinner," Tim leaned across the couch's armrest, dropping his head near Dick's, "is served."

Startled, Dick squirmed around, and beamed at his brother. "Hi, Tim! Look! I made a kitty that looks like you!"

Tim resisted the urge to squint and instead skipped to immediately lauding Dick's work. "Aw, really! Dick that was so nice of you! Look, even his eyes are the right color!"

Dick beamed proudly and squirmed under the praise. "Awww, umm, thanks Tim! It made me very happy to draw, 'cause I like drawing you 'cause you're awesome."

Tim straightened, pulling his face into a serious mask, and hopped into ramrod position. "My Lord, may I escort you to the dining room?"

Dick giggled. "I'm not anybody's _Lord_. I"m a little kid! And you're worth way more than me!"

"I beg to respectfully disagree."

Dick pulled a face of skepticism, as if he had been informed that eating broccoli was, in fact, worth the nutrients.

"Would you like a piggyback ride, my Lord?" Tim knelt and swept his hands to the side, and Dick laughed, put down his pencil, and nodded vigorously.

"Uh huh!" Hopping over to Tim, he carefully positioned his arms around the older boy's chest, draping his arms low over Tim's shoulders to avoid choking him.

Tim clambered off, and Dick giggled from his perch behind him. "This is funny, Tim, because a little bit ago Jason was carrying you! I know 'cause I helped him! I was a _spotter_! I was really helpful! Jason said so!"

Tim had some definite suspicions about how helpful Dick had _really_ been, but saw no reason to share them. "Well, I'm glad I was in such good hands."

"Tim, is it okay if I ask you a question?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you have new rules for me yet?"

"What are Jason's rules?"

"Well, I can't say sorry for anything that isn't one of Jason's rules. I'm allowed to learn kar-a-tee," Dick shifted uncomfortably on Tim's back, "I go to bed at 8:00 PM, I'm not allowed to say that I'm bad, if we're in danger for some reason I should let Jason take care of me and don't do anything stupid."

Tim bumped Dick higher on his back, and responded with a "Well, those seem like good rules to me." And they did. They didn't quite cover all possible contingencies, but Tim was aware that Jason hadn't exactly been with Dick _long_ , and that there was only so much an eight year old could remember. And the fact that they were so good… Jason didn't automatically love all kids. He'd shot Damian. To be fair, pretty much anyone would be inclined to shoot Damian after meeting the brat, but still. He'd beat Tim almost to death. This was a copy of someone Jason _hated_ , someone he resented for being too perfect and indirectly causing his death through the impossible standards he'd set.

Tim realized that this Dick was not related to anything that happened in their world. But Jason was crazy. He didn't deal well with things that reminded him of his past. He tended to explode them.

Maybe he wouldn't have killed Dick… but Tim couldn't quite get behind him going to such lengths to care for him either. There had to be a motive. Tim was a detective. He would find it. But first, they had to eat mansaf. Without lamb, because THANK YOU DAMIAN, you're SO HELPFUL! It wasn't enough that they had to eat (and prepare!) food for a _feast_ , they couldn't even include the good part: blasted vegetarians. Although, to be fair, even if they had looked extensively, there might not have been frozen lamb just lying around.

Tim contended that it was _also_ unfair that Damian could _still_ force his food on them when the lamb was actually _important_ and mansaf could take _8 hours_ to make. Tim didn't know _what_ Damian did to force the thing to cook so fast, but he was half convinced Talia had a class in 'how to make the worst dishes ever in no time at all to annoy your family'. That, or she taught some kind of substitute ingredients that could 'prepare an elegant dish' and still leave time to bake quickly if pressed for time, like if the Batfamily was attacking. Or it was just another unexplained bat thing that defied all known laws of physics.

The point was, Damian was a jerk.

"Hey'ya, kiddo." Jason tilted onto his back two chair legs (appeal to empathy: effort to be relatable) and grinned at Dick. Dick giggled and waved. (Insecurity, abashment, unwilling to instigate conversation.)

Tim crouched to let Dick slide off, and Dick's bare feet quickly pattered across the floor. He immediately filed away that Dick would take body language as orders.

"Where do I sit?"

"Here." Damian was asserting dominance and keeping Dick away from Jason. Tim wondered if Jason's allowance of said keep-away was a sign that it was unnecessary. But Jason was unhinged. It was for the best.

Dick obeyed happily and settled in beside Damian, and Tim moved to his other side.

"Ummm… does everybody have new rules for me?"

Dick glanced around hopefully, and while Tim knew Damian was itching to inform Dick that there were no rules whatsoever, he did remember when he first became a member of the family. Used to Jack and Janet's rules, he'd been completely unsettled by Wayne Manor.

Tim had been used to having rules for how he could eat, talk, walk, dress, use his free time, _everything_ . And then there had been Wayne manor. Now _Robin_ had made sense: Batman was a control freak, and Robin needed to do everything to perfection, especially after Jason Todd. But as structured as Robin had been, Tim Drake had been lost. Because Batman just didn't love Tim Drake the way he loved Robin. _Bruce Wayne_ loved Tim, and because Bruce Wayne was a mask, it was a very shallow love indeed.

And since the love was shallow, he hadn't cared what Tim did. There were rules of etiquette, of course, (and Alfred would enforce those with the fury of a thousand Batmen), but it wasn't the same.

Maybe they wouldn't be 'Daddy', but they couldn't just _not_ give Dick anything to hold onto, either. People didn't do well with too few rules. Jason was hard enough proof of that.

"Well, I think we're gonna keep Jason's rules, 'cause they were so good," (Dick liked Jason, so Tim's reassurance of the man would help keep them on Dick's good side), "and we'll see how things go from there!"

Dick nodded vigorously, and grinned. "Okay! I'll do everything really well - I mean I'll do my best, it'll be pretty terrible, but I promise to try super hard." Dick's posture had suddenly shrunk from excited to scared, defensive, apologetic, and Tim was about to talk when Jason beat him to it.

"Hey, you'll do _great_ kid." Jason was frowning, and Tim wondered at the shift in his emotions. Before he'd been constantly projecting happiness around Dick; this seriousness was something new.

"You're gonna try hard, and you're gonna mess up, and that's okay, 'cause you're gonna _learn_. Capish, squirt?"

Dick glanced up and a small smile played at his lips. "Capish, Jason."

"Good stuff. Now pass the tater tots, 'cause I ate mine already and Damian gets pokey if I take his."

Tim thought 'pokey' was an interesting way to describe the time Damian had thrown his karambit at Jason's face last Thanksgiving dinner.

From the look on Damian's face, he also thought 'pokey' was an understatement and looked inclined to reimpress the truth of his 'unparalleled skill and accuracy' upon Jason once more. Around Dick, this could not be allowed to happen.

Tim passed the tater tots.

* * *

"Jason!" Jason turned to look behind him, a grin already plastering itself to his face.

"Dickie bird. You doin' pretty good?"

"Uh, _huh_ Jason! Tim and Damian are here, and I'm so happy! You already knew that! I'm saying silly things, Jason, cause I'm sosososo _happy_ ! They liked our banner and they liked their food, and they liked their movie-" gasp "Wait! We made the house special for Tim and Damian, but nobody made it special for you!"

Aw kid. If this was going where Jason thought it was he was gonna wring Daddy's misbegotten _neck_ …

"I'm sorry, Jason! I shoulda not been so scared at first and I…"

Jason dropped to his heels and stared the kid deep in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You should not be sorry for being scared. You should not be sorry for not knowing what was going on and not doing anything: you didn't even know who I was. You couldn't have known. That. Isn't. Your. Fault."

Dick smiled a little, watery eyes holding Jason's own as he shifted his weight to his toes. "Thanks, Chicken. You're a great big brother."

Jason grinned, eyes tight, and ruffled Dick's hair. "Well, I learned from the best." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth: they laid sour on his tongue and dissonant in his ears, and everything in him rebelled at how _untrue_ they were but he'd said it and maybe it would make Dick feel better.

"You have two big brothers?"

"Just the one."

Dick's head tilted as he tried to reconcile himself with being a good big brother (something Damian would probably be better at convincing Dick of than Jason) and Jason tugged Dick's hand to pull him toward the others.

"Come on, Shortstack. They've probably finished dishes by now." Dick's pattering steps fell into pace beside Jason.

"Chicken?"

"Yeah?"

"I think they liked the Water Battle of Awesomeness."

"Me too, Dickie Bird."


	24. Chapter 24

Damian poked his head into the South wing library for as long as it took to confirm that the place was, indeed, still the bibliotheca he remembered of his own mansion. Well, his _Father's_ mansion, but the one that was in Damian's universe. Damian was _about_ to move onward, but his steps stilled, then reversed, bringing him back into the hollow embrace of lofty ceilings and savory aromas of books weathered by time, some older than grandfather himself. Six hundred years was long to walk the Earth, but he could not claim to have predated time entirely, no matter Damian's childish feelings in his youth.

Damian's steps now took him over lightly carpeted floors and bare wooden boards. The carpet was pale green instead of purple: likely Pennyworth had not been forced to change it due to blood stains. Damian had not borne developed intentions when he entered the room, but his eyes were drawn to The Chair anyway. The armrests were too frayed, the seat cushion dilapidated. It was obvious Todd spent much time there.

Damian tore his gaze from the preferred reading place of a zombie and moved to inspect his own seat, a love couch with enough room to stretch out on and comfortable enough to curl up in. It looked much the same. A cursory investigation revealed no daggers within the cushions. Most of the library did look much the same… albeit more well-worn.

He walked over to the wooden panels that bordered the wall by the floor and checked for secret passages. He experienced a brief moment of surprise upon finding one, then remembered that even before being the headquarters of Bats this house had seen it's share of a war on injustice. An _underground_ war, if one would. Squatting on the flats of his feet (like any _civilized_ person: balancing on one's _toes_ was a pathetic Western innovation and considerably less beneficial to one's spine) Damian breathed in the situation and breathed it out again, releasing tension and confusion into the air and letting it dissipate on his breath.

He could not remember when he'd learned that particular technique, but it had been with his mother.

Damian turned heel and made his way out the door, moving to check inside the supply closet. It had been his suggestion that they all take this time to refamiliarize themselves with the house, Tiny - Richard being carted off by Drake, who, no doubt, would take this time to conduct extensive investigations into the child's home life. Drake could often be annoying, but sometimes he could still be of benefit to Damian.

Damian swung open another door, noted the differences and moved on. He was conflicted concerning his own usefulness to Richard. Part of him believed that as the Robin to Grayson's Batman and as _Damian Wayne_ himself, of _course_ he was best qualified to help Richard in this. The other part whispered unhelpfully that this was not Grayson. This was _Richard_. Damian did not yet know the difference. Also, an older voice whispered other things.

Damian flung open a door, noted that it was as it should be, and tried to silence the little voice gnawing at his mind. He had not performed adequately. He was born to be perfect and yet still he failed. His Mother had gone to untold measures to bring him into existence and yet he still failed her. His Father had taken him into his home and promptly died, Grayson had made him Robin and then _Damian_ died, leaving Grayson alone to be captured, tortured, killed, and sent off in a precarious mental state to be a 'spy'! And this did not even cover Damian's part in subjecting Grayson to the Court of Owls!

Surely Damian's involvement with Richard could but make things worse?

He flung open a door. Same.

On the other hand, the other options were Todd and Drake.

Another door. Same.

Surely, Damian could not do worse than Todd and Drake.

Door. Different.

Of course, Father kept _Todd's_ uniform up in memorial, but not _Damian's_ … and if Damian had to hear one more time about how much better Drake _followed directions_ and his _amazing detective work_ , and: ' _no Damian, you can't just interrogate people with your wonderful, pristine, unparalleled, 10th century katana, you have to stare at dust trails and sniff leaves because that's what detectives like that over caffeinated failure Drake do and you have to be_ just like Drake _even though you were raised to be perfect and he can't even keep his internal organs inside his body_ …

Door. Different.

Damian tired of spending this much mental exertion on Drake. It was simple. Richard required help. Todd was insane. Drake was incompetent. Even if this was not so, with only three people available, Richard was going to need all the help he could get. Damian would at least, do more benefit than harm, correct? Of course. And even if he was not, perhaps, the greatest child psychologist, he could enact revenge on this 'Daddy' whoever and wherever he might be.

Door. Same.

When Damian found Daddy… hmm. Death was far too good for him but he would need to be incarcerated somewhere…

Door. Different.

Forget this. Damian was skipping to the fun part. When Damian found Daddy he was going to cut off all his possible escape routes. If he still feared bats Damian would unleash a volley of them into his face. Damian could bring Goliath.

Door. Different.

Goliath would scream in his face and tear him with his claws and carry him up to a mountaintop where Damian would be waiting. Damian would have with him a katana… a very sharp poison covered katana, and a pit of acid and a lazarus pit so he could kill him many times and medieval torture devices…

Damian found himself bouncing on his toes and grinning as he fairly skipped down the hallway. He forced himself to slow down.

Door. Different.

Now, what was a good way to impart the sufferings this man had placed upon innocent tiny Richard? What was a good way to turn those cruelties back on the man himself? Something ironic, humiliating and very painful…

Despite his best efforts, Damian found himself humming.


End file.
